Her Reason to Stay (11 page)

Work had always been his refuge. He’d lost himself so thoroughly in work he’d managed to believe Lisa’s excuses for forgotten appointments, falls that made no sense for a young woman of sound body, even two car accidents she’d blamed on her well-treated “nerves.”

Today, he couldn’t focus on his clients. In the back of his mind, Daphne waited. A smile, a twitch of her pale orange sundress. A series of truths she’d already told him that he’d uncovered in black and white.

He’d give anything to make it stop mattering.

The phone on his desk rang. It was his private line and when he answered, Sheriff Tom Drake identified himself.

“I want to talk to you about Danny Frank,” he said.

“My ex-wife hired him?”

“Actually, we heard from Lisa. She has an attorney and she sent an affidavit, along with a recording from her voice mail. Frank did it for her, but she had no knowledge of his actions.”

“What?”

“She broke off their relationship and he wanted to win her back. He thought stealing her kid might do the trick.”

“God. You’re positive she didn’t talk him into it?”

“She spent most of the conversation begging me to tell her Will wasn’t going to be marked for life. I told her he seems to be coping well.”

“What happens next?”

“Frank goes to trial, but I thought you’d want to know about Lisa.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

“I guess she might be changing after all.”

“Yeah.” It was the most frightening thing she’d done yet.

“What will happen with Frank now?”

“As I said, he’ll go to trial.”

“And jail?”

“I hope so.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

He called his mother to let her know. Her wary “Hey, Patrick” alarmed him.

“Is something wrong with Will?” He went to the window where spring sunshine over the courthouse blinded him. Covering his eyes, he turned back to the sun-spotted, orderly confines of his office. He’d talked to his son while his mother had driven Will back to her house and he’d been okay.

“He’s fine. We made Play-Doh after school. I have the biggest pretzel in the whole wide world on my kitchen table.”

His sigh of relief was ridiculous. He had to put his life in order. “Tom Drake just called me.” He filled her in.

“Have you called Daphne?”

He stared at his phone. “Daphne?”

“Don’t get all defensive. She was part of this, too, and you should let her know.”

Why bother trying to persuade her he didn’t care about Daphne? “I’ll call her.”

“Good. I think you need to talk.”

“What’s going on, Mother?”

“With me? Nothing. Talk to you later.”

He dialed Daphne’s cell phone. She answered after several rings.

“Patrick?”

“I don’t blame you for being surprised. I should have called you.”

“I guessed you’d decided what you wanted from us.”

“I didn’t decide,” he said. “I’ve been longing for you like a schoolkid and wishing I weren’t too afraid for Will to come to you.”

“Have you ever thought you may be using Will as a shield?”

“He’s my son.”

Silence went both ways over the line.

“The Sheriff—Tom Drake—called me a few minutes ago,” Patrick finally said. “Lisa knew this Danny Frank, but she didn’t put him up to kidnapping Will. Apparently, he felt he was doing her a favor.”

“They’re certain?”

“She taped something off her voice mail that puts her in the clear.”

“How are you?”

“About that? I’m worried. It sounds as if she’s in a sober moment if she managed to get her evidence together. I’m thinking she may come back for Will.”

“If she could sober up it might be best. He needs his mother.”

“People say that, but they don’t know…”

“I know,” she said.

“That’s why I stopped. You do know how it’s been for him, or you know something similar. But I don’t want him to endure the childhood you had.”

“He has you,” she said with generosity he didn’t deserve.

“I love him, Daphne. More than anything.”

“I know.” She was silent a moment. “I’ve been meaning to call you, too. I’m starting to look for work as a jury consultant again, so you’ll see me around the courthouse.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“I have to live again. I can’t hide forever.” Implicit was the truth. He was happy to hide, and he was if it kept Will safe.

“Do you want to drop your résumé by here?”

“No, thanks. I just wanted to warn you you’ll see me in the courthouse.”

“I’d be glad to take your information, Daphne.”

“I don’t want to work with you,” she said, “and I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’m outside the shop and Miriam is waiting for me to make a couple of deliveries.”

She hung up. He stared at the phone. Lisa’s anger had never left him in any doubt. If Daphne was angry, she hid it well, but she’d talked to him as if she hardly knew him. Maybe she didn’t want to know him anymore.

Maybe she’d finally taken him at his word and moved on.

He shut the phone with a slap and stood. Familiar sights outside the window provided no relief. He turned for the door and almost passed his assistant without speaking.

“Mr. Gannon?”

“I’m going out.”

“You’ll be back?”

“Probably not. If anyone calls with an urgent problem, leave me a voice mail. I’ll check in later.”

He was charging down the sidewalk, apologizing right and left, when he saw Daphne driving away from Miriam’s store.

He laughed at himself. What could he have expected? And why the hell was he chasing her down when pretending wasn’t fair to her, either? He had an early afternoon. He’d spend it with Will.

H
IS MOTHER ANSWERED
the door, surprised. “Come in. We’re baking our footprints.”

“You should have been a kindergarten teacher yourself,” he said.

“I am creative.” She seemed to be talking without thinking. She eyed him as if she were looking for signs of smallpox.

“Daddy, look.”

Will ran down the hall carrying several wads of dough, jammed together to sort of resemble an airplane. A couple of pieces flopped onto his grandmother’s pristine parquet floor, and he stopped, stomping them into the wood as he tried to pick them up.

“Uh-oh,” he said, tripping until Patrick hurried to catch him by the sticky elbows. “My nose wheels.”

“We can put that back together,” Patrick said.

They made bugs and dogs and cats and a Cessna out of the world’s largest pretzel and ate dinner, and then Patrick and Will bent their heads over Will’s ABCs while Gloria spooned clotted cream over warm apple crisp.

Afterward, Patrick helped his son pack his things.

“Kiss Grandma goodbye.”

She bent and Will jumped and they head-butted.

“Sorry, Grandma.” Will rubbed his head. “That smarted.”

“For me, too.”

Gloria kissed his boo-boo, while Patrick inspected for concussion. Single parenthood had turned him into a regular grandma himself, which was nothing a man might brag about.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” his mother said as she walked them to the door.

“Thanks for everything,” Patrick said.

“Notice I haven’t asked for an explanation?”

“I got so wound up in your big baked footprints I forgot to notice.”

She mocked him with a fake “Heh heh.” Then she kissed Will again and caught Patrick’s arm. “You be careful, you hear me?”

“Subtle, Mom. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” She took a deep breath and ruffled Will’s hair. “See you, guys.”

Halfway to the car, Will held up his arms. “Carry me, Daddy.”

They waved goodbye again, and Gloria finally turned away. Patrick helped Will in and got behind the wheel.

At the red light by the square, they hit a traffic jam. Cars inched forward, their drivers particularly harassed and quick on the horn. Traffic jams in Honesty were almost nonexistent.

Will had begun to nod off, but the honking woke him. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Bunch of cars ahead, buddy. You can go back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

A battered white sedan was nosed to the corner of Main and Square. With its hood propped open, it exhaled a plume of steam. Patrick recognized it before he saw Daphne, studying the engine in consternation as the warm breeze feathered her hair around her neck.

She stepped out of a spreading pool of water in front of the grille. Her car hadn’t just run hot. She’d cracked her radiator.

Immediately searching for a parking spot, Patrick glanced at Will, who stretched as tall as he could manage in his seat.

“Aunt Raina?” Will pointed. “Why’s Aunt Raina stuck with that car? That’s not her car.”

“That’s Aunt Daphne.”

“Let’s help her, Dad.”

Patrick’s palms began to sweat on the steering wheel. He’d pulled away. They hadn’t seen each other in almost a month. Going back, no matter how much he craved the mere scent of her skin, was wrong.

But he stared at her, a dying man in sight of salvation. Her flushed face might be due to heat or humiliation. Another car horn bleated and she turned, so tragically apologetic he wanted nothing more than to get out and teach the other driver manners.

Helping her wouldn’t make her a part of his family, but he didn’t want to stop at helping her. He wanted to hold her and feel her need racing with his.

“How about we call a tow truck?” Cursing himself, he picked up his cell phone.

“No, Daddy. I wanna help Aunt Daphne.”

Patrick closed the phone. Even without Will’s plea, he wouldn’t have been able to drive past Daphne.

They drew even with her. The faint pink on her skin turned deep red.

He stopped the car and opened the doors so that Will wouldn’t overheat. “We’ll help Aunt Daphne make her deliveries.”

Around him, the square erupted in a symphony of angry horns and shouts and a couple of colorful names he hoped Will wasn’t hearing.

“L
ET ME HELP YOU
,” P
ATRICK
said, coming around his car, looking about as happy as Daphne felt.

The four words in the English language most perfectly designed to make her cut off her nose to spite her face.

If Miriam’s afternoon deliveries weren’t wilting in the backseat, for the second time since she’d taken this job, she might have walked away and never looked at the whole mess again.

“Move that heap out of the way.”

Nodding, she waved her heckler on. “I’m fine, Patrick. I’ve just been trying to find a tow truck that can come now.”

“I have a friend who charges fifty a tow. Do you want me to call him?”

She looked down at the fluid escaping from her radiator. “I’m going to need him anyway.”

“Okay, but I’ll help you deliver the flowers.”

“Thanks.” She pointed toward the car. “Is Will in there?” She saw his head wobbling as he strained to see over the high backseat of his father’s car.

“Go say hi,” Patrick said. “I’ll call Kent and move the flowers.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, and his eyes roamed her face like a starving man’s.

She ducked inside his car. Will held out his arms. “Aunt Daphne,” he said. “Your car broke.”

“It sure did.”

“Daddy will fix it.”

“Daddy is fixing it. I’m lucky you guys came along.”

“He was going to call a tow truck, but I made him stop.”

Daphne wasn’t surprised. Naturally, he wouldn’t want to help. He’d managed to hide from his feelings for a long time. Being dragged face-to-face with a woman who could make him live again had to be a shock.

Dolt.

“Well, I’m glad you were looking out for me.” She kissed the top of his head. “You smell like bread.”

“We made hands and feet.” He pointed to a small stack of wax paper-covered objects. “See?”

“Awfully nice.”

Orange and white lights turned onto Main Street, heading their way.

“There’s your daddy’s friend with his truck. I’d better go. Are you okay?”

“Sure. We’re going to help you deliver your flowers.”

“I’m looking forward to that.”

Standing, she shaded her eyes, but she could catch only glimpses of the orange lights between the traffic and the interested bystanders. Inch by inch, the vehicles took turns creeping past in both directions, allowing the lights to come closer and closer.

At last. Blessed towing equipment took shape behind the lights.

Relief made her a little dizzy.

“That’s the last of the flowers.” Patrick came to her side.

Nodding, she tiptoed for a glimpse of the tow truck’s driver. His face was all concentration as he inched around her car and blocked another lane and a half.

“Will said you didn’t want to stop.”

“I didn’t want to start anything up again,” he said.

“You’re a coward.”

She went toward the truck. The door opened and her fairy godfather stepped out in greasy blue overalls and a red ball cap. According to the evidence of an embroidered white patch on his chest, he was indeed Patrick’s friend.

“Kent, I have to declare my undying love for you.”

His grin turned a little wary. Perhaps she’d gone too far. “Hey,” he said. “Hey, Patrick.”

“Hi, Kent. Thanks for coming so fast.” They shook hands and then Patrick turned to her. “This is Daphne Soder.”

“Hey, Daphne.”

They shook hands, too, and then Patrick rested his hand on the hot metal of the fallen vehicle. “And this is her car.”

“Yeah?” Kent arrowed his body over her engine to more closely admire her busted radiator. “This thing won’t ever move again without a tow.”

“I was afraid of that.” She reached into the driver’s window for her purse. Her insurance card said nothing about towing. Swearing under her breath, she rifled her wallet. “How much will this cost?”

“Usually, fifty a tow,” Kent said, “but I’m just hauling her about three blocks, so let’s say thirty.”

“You wouldn’t want to say twenty-five?”

Patrick moved forward, clearly about to offer monetary assistance, too. Daphne stopped him with a look that somehow made him smile in surprise.

Someone honked again. Several drivers leaned on their horns in reply. Kent tipped the rim of his cap, sliding it back to reveal dirty-blond hair. “You seen gas prices lately?”

“Yeah, okay.” She hated using her credit card. D-e-b-t also spelled insecurity.

He offered his hand again. “Deal at thirty?”

She shook it. “Deal. Do you know the folks who’ll do the work on the car?”

“That’d also be me, ma’am.” He pointed to his name as if she might have missed it. “You won’t find a better price in town. Ask Patrick.”

“I have plenty to ask Patrick.” She turned back to her heap. First things first. “But I’m sorry for being so cranky with you. Do you know where I can rent a car?”

“We provide a loaner. It’s not a luxury—” He broke off, surveying her rust-bucket chariot. “I guess you won’t mind that, though.”

Even Daphne had to laugh. “You can’t imagine how grateful I am. I need my job if I’m going to pay you.”

“Well, ma’am, let’s get moving then.”

I
N THE END
,
Daphne asked Patrick to transfer the arrangements from his trunk to the loaner’s trunk and she went on her way to make her deliveries. She’d thanked him, but he’d sensed her anger. Her impatience?

He tried not to think as he readied Will’s clothes for the next morning and checked they’d done the right homework. The king of ABCs and colors in his kindergarten class, Will liked to have the correct answers. One day of his son’s near hysteria because they’d done the wrong day’s work had made him extra careful about getting the date and assignment combo right.

In the bathtub, Will was delivering color commentary as he dive-bombed plastic carriers with his fighters, which he could name by model. Patrick went to haul him and his boats out of the cooling water. “You have about two minutes.”

“I’m not ready, Daddy. I’m doing a battle.”

“You’re crazy for planes, buddy.”

Will slicked back his pale hair. “Once upon a day, I’ll fly planes like these, Daddy.”

“I’ll be first in line for a ride.”

“If I have room. Mommy doesn’t want a ride. She doesn’t want me to be a pilot.”

For Will’s sake, Patrick managed to hide his anger with Lisa. Shading the truth might not be honest, but Will needed some kind of mother figure. “Mommies worry about their boys. She wants you to be safe on the ground, at home.”

“She’s not home.” Will’s next bomb landed with even more force. “I don’t get to be with both of you no more. Ever again.”

He couldn’t say, “Because your mommy might have gotten you killed.”

“Sometimes that happens when people don’t manage to make marriage work, buddy. But Mom and I both love you. You know that.”

“Where
is
my mommy?” Will balanced his plane on his wrinkled palm. “I don’t like that I don’t get to see her. Do you make her stay away, Daddy?”

“No.” He would if he had to, until she got help.

Patrick had only cried twice in his adult life before the divorce. On his wedding day as Lisa had floated down the aisle like pure light and again at 3:24 a.m. on the morning Will came into their lives. Since the day his son was rushed to the hospital to be treated for hypothermia, however, he’d choked down more tears than the lead drama queen on the worst soap opera.

“You’re turning into a prune, buddy. Ready to get out?”

Will tried to answer, but a yawn stopped him. By the time he managed to close his mouth, Patrick had him wrapped in a towel, halfway to his room.

They read their regulation three books before bed, and Patrick said his own silent prayer that the question of keeping Lisa away from Will wouldn’t come up again.

He tidied up around the house. A client, who’d given up pickpocketing to earn a living by working for people like Patrick who couldn’t keep up with their own housework, came by twice a week to do the big stuff.

Patrick liked keeping Ned Montgomery off the streets, but he felt strangely embarrassed with the reformed convict knowing that Patrick hated to pick up newspapers after he read them. Or that Will had never managed to get a towel into a hamper.

After he ran out of mindless chores, he turned on one of the twenty-four-hour news channels. All the while, his thoughts drifted back to Daphne.

Was he a man or a barely surviving divorced father whose ex-wife had convinced him no one could change?

R
AINA MET
D
APHNE
on the front porch. Her smile widened when Daphne got out of the loaner.

“You got a new car.”

The little sedan was hardly new. It sported a dent in the front panel closest to Raina, and a scratch all the way from hood to taillight. A hailstorm had pocked the paint job with dings. But it looked better to Raina than Daphne’s own car.

“I borrowed it from this guy named Kent while my car’s in the shop. The radiator blew.”

“I know Kent. He did some transmission work for my mother a couple of years ago.”

“You like his work?”

“Sure.” Raina snapped her fingers as if she remembered why she’d hurried out. “I did something today. I don’t want you thinking I don’t want you in the house.”

Daphne thought she might cry. “Are you throwing me out?”

“Are you nuts?” Raina turned away from the front door. “Come this way. I know you haven’t been comfortable, and you feel as if you’re living off me.”

“I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, Raina.”

“You don’t, but I’m not comfortable with taking rent for a room.”

She waved her hand and Daphne followed around the driveway where the small shrubs were fleshing out.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re here.” Raina pointed to the bank of four windows set into a brick addition that rose above the garage. “That’s an apartment. About a billion years ago, my great-grandfather’s housekeeper and butler lived up there with their children.” She pulled a key from her pocket and started up the brick spiral staircase. “I’m afraid spiders and old luggage live there now, but we can clean it out for you.”

“I can’t take it.” Daphne hung back. “That place may be servants’ quarters to you, but it’s nicer on the outside than any apartment I’ve ever rented.”

“Well, I think it’s more appropriate since you’re insisting that I take your money.”

“I can’t afford this much, and I don’t want to look at it. I love old places and I’ll fall in love with it, I’m sure.”

“It’s not like the rest of my house, and you aren’t going to pay me a thin dime more than you do.”

“This might be better than your place.” Daphne climbed slowly, certain she’d be a sucker for Victorian beams and molding, unblemished by fancy, twenty-first-century style.

“I was right.” Raina had already opened the door and was wiping cobwebs off her face. “I should have had the place cleaned before I showed you.”

But Daphne saw through the cobwebs and dust and stacks of detritus, to the bones and the bare wood and the thick, cool plaster. “If I moved in, you’d have to blast me out with a cannon.”

Raina swung around. “You like it?”

“Like it?” Daphne flattened her hands on the pale wall, a little beige from dust and dirt. “It feels like home.”

“I’ve never felt that way.”

It took a few minutes for Raina’s words to sink in. “What do you mean?” Daphne brushed dirt off of her skirt. “You’ve lived here all your life.”

Raina took up a position behind two steamer trunks and a carriage lamp. “I know I’m the lucky one. I had a mother and father who loved me more than anything they ever owned, and they owned all this.” Her hands, held wide, encompassed the apartment and the house, the grounds and probably half the town. “I never went hungry and I was never afraid, but I don’t know who I am, Daphne. I don’t even know who I want to be.”

“I don’t want you to be sad.” Without thinking, she hugged her twin.

Raina stared into her eyes. “Have you realized you and I won’t ever need a mirror again? We can just look at each other.”

“You’re changing the subject.” Daphne let her go, but she refused to back off from admitting she loved Raina. “I’m embarrassed because you can help me when I’m sort of homeless, and I can’t promise you anything but thanks, which you don’t want. That’s who you are.”

“Giving you rooms to live in and an old stove to cook on is easy. Telling you I don’t want you to leave Honesty—that’s hard. My father died so long ago I hardly remember his face. That scares me.” She looked up, her own features drawn. “My mother—her death hurts me every day I wake up and remember that she’s gone.”

Tears burned away Daphne’s rough day. She hugged her sister again. “I don’t want to leave,” she said. “You’re not alone. You won’t ever be alone again unless you ask me to go.”

“We have something else in common.” Raina squared the corners of the two trunks. “Neither of us is comfortable feeling needy.”

“Needing each other feels okay.” Daphne caught the trunks. “I came here because I thought if someone else loved me, I’d be safe. But you’ve done so much more for me. You’ve become my sister and now I feel protective. My heart doesn’t seem to know the adoption agency split us up.”

“I still don’t see why they did that.”

Daphne scoffed. “I don’t care anymore. My life starts here and now.”

Daphne meant what she said. She had dropped off her information with the attorneys in town. Some had seemed interested.

“I envy that. I wish I knew what I wanted to do.”

“You must know your identity’s all tied up with your mother. How long was she sick?”

Raina’s tension tightened the air. “All my life in one way or another.”

“What could you do but take care of her? What you’re missing now is a job that you choose.” Daphne leaned into the stuff behind her and something scraped across the floor. She straightened, alarmed at ruining Raina’s property. “You may not have wanted your chance for a new start to happen this way, but that’s what you have, and you should run with the one thing you most want to do.”

Raina covered her face with her hands and then yanked them away. “First step here is to clean the place so you can live in it. You want it, don’t you?”