Chapter 29
"You think your mom will notice it?"
Jake eyed the ugly painting that now hung crookedly on the wall at the end of the hallway and wondered how anyone, least of all his mom, could miss it, sighing, "Maybe we should just tell her the truth. How mad can she be?"
"Mad about what?" a familiar voice behind them asked.
Busted, Jake thought, following his dad's example and whirling around to face his mom. With a glance at his dad out of the corner of his eyes, Jake held back a sigh—he was really too big for this kid stuff—and stepped forward with the biggest, most charming, rascally grin he had tucked up his sleeve and wrapped his arms around his mom's waist in a breath-stealing hug. "Mom! You're home!"
Automatically, Gwen's arms lifted to return Jake's embrace, the needling feeling of suspicion she'd been nursing the entire evening growing more insistent in the pit of her belly. Combing her fingers through the mop of her son's brown hair, she narrowed her eyes at her husband and his apparent reluctance to look her fully in the eyes for more than two seconds. "Hank?"
"Didn't hear you come in, Babe." Hank matched Jake's grin, throwing in a teasing wink for good measure. "How'd you sneak past Gus?"
"Living in this house has taught me a trick or two," Gwen answered, releasing Jake and stepping around her husband. Or at least she tried to. For the next several seconds, the two of them engaged in a dance that recalled her youthful days at boarding school and those dreadful lessons until she managed to slide past him, her mouth dropping open in horror. "Bennett," her voice was low with warning. "What have you done?"
"Nothing," Hank replied innocently, "just thought such a work of art deserved a better place than the back of our bedroom closet." Elbowing Jake for rolling his eyes, Hank carefully schooled his expression into a neutral one when Gwen glanced back at him, aghast.
"You can't be serious." Swallowing in shock, she searched for something further to say but words eluded her, and her eyes were drawn back to the monstrosity covering her wall. Finally, she blurted, hand shielding her eyes, "It's a picture of pigs!"
"A token of Becs's affection," Hank deadpanned. Beside him, Jake choked back a laugh, ducking his head and hooking his thumbs in his belt loops when he felt the heat of his parents' stares. Swallowing back his own chuckle with difficulty, Hank placed comforting hands on Gwen's shoulders and gave Jake a look that plainly said cool it. "Like Becs herself, the picture grows on you."
Gwen groaned, covering her eyes again. "Hank Bennett, so help me God…" she began, only to be cut off by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.
Barreling down the hallway at a breakneck pace, Emily and Sara were chattering a mile a minute, the excited words leaving their mouths barely distinguishable as part of the English language, except for a few recognizable Mommy's and Mom's scattered throughout.
In a much more sedate stride and overall manner, Jonathan Hotchkiss approached his daughter, a twinkle in his eyes as he nodded at his son-in-law and young grandson. "It really does grab your attention."
Emily, having only just recently viewed Charlotte's Web, piped up, "Look, Mommy! That one looks like Wilbur!"
Showing none of the restraint Hank and Jake had fought for so valiantly, Sara smirked then let loose a naughty giggle, exclaiming, "It's the ugliest picture I ever saw!"
"Now, Sar," Hank failed miserably in his efforts to keep a straight face, "that's not a nice thing to say."
"Well, it is," Sara stubbornly insisted, feet spread wide and stance challenging him to deny the truth. "Mom thinks so too. Right, Mom?" Under her breath, she mumbled, "The hole was much cooler."
"I…I…wait a minute," Gwen's head whipped around when her mouth had finally caught up with her brain. Quickly honing in on her daughter's suddenly impassive face, she questioned, "Did you just say hole?" Eyes snapping to Hank's equally blank face, she practically growled, "Bennett?"
Jonathan's lips twitched when Jake piped up in doomed rescue.
"The pole! She meant the pole."
Clearing his throat, Hank couldn't quite keep the smirk off of his lips and ducked his head to avoid the heat of the glare his wife was aiming at him. "Sorry, Babe. I didn't think it was appropriate to…you know...in front of the kids. Although…I hear it's an excellent way to stay in shape."
"Daddy?" Gwen pleaded.
"Your mother wants me to check into having one installed for her." Jonathan chuckled when Jake covered his ears, seconds too late, and his daughter cringed. Hank, meanwhile, hung his head even lower, all traces of his earlier humor gone.
"Now that was a mental image I could have done without."
Recovering her ability to speak, Gwen sweetened her approach, scooping Emily up in her arms. "Emmy," she twirled one brown braid between her fingers, "can you tell Mommy about the hole?"
Small fingers tangling in the pearls at her mother's neck, Emily bobbed her brown head, and Jake groaned, muttering something about the weakest link as he beat a hasty retreat to his room before the you-know-what hit the fan. "Uh huh." Letting go of the necklace, she pointed a finger at the eyesore that was the center of everybody's attention.
Not trusting herself to look, Gwen glowered at Hank over the top of their daughter's head, and Hank guiltily stepped forward, Jonathan falling in line to assist him. Staring into Emmy's shining brown eyes, Gwen whispered, "Is it a really big hole?"
Mouth parted, features uncharacteristically solemn at her mother's demeanor, Emily nodded slowly.
Glancing at Sara, Gwen was distantly aware of a gentle breeze caressing her face as she asked, "Am I going to be mad at your dad?"
"Real mad," Sara grinned. "Grandpa said he's gonna have to turn his house into a 'fugee camp." Frowning slightly, she muttered, "Whatever that means."
"Daddy?" Gwen ventured without looking in his direction. "How bad is it?"
"You might want to take a look yourself, Sweetheart," Jonathan suggested gently.
Frozen in inaction, Gwen could only stare in her daughter's brown eyes, until Sara tugged excitedly at Emmy's dangling foot and practically squealed.
"Emmy! Emmy! Look! A squirrel!"
"Bennett!"
"Need any help?" Ethan asked from his position in the nursery doorway.
On the changing table, Hope pouted, blue eyes welling, as Beth carefully removed her wet diaper. Kicking her small feet out and flailing her bunched fists, she voiced her displeasure with small whimpers and fat crocodile tears that slipped into her dark curls.
Ethan didn't wait for an answer, moving deeper into the room and easily falling into the role of Beth's assistant. Between the two of them, they made short work of outfitting Hope in a fresh, clean diaper, the scent of talcum powder tickling at their noses. With a pleased grin on his face, he told her, "We make a pretty good team."
"Practice makes perfect," Beth colored with embarrassment, murmuring against Hope's forehead as the baby fretted in her arms. "I'm a little rusty." When Ethan raised a brow at her in question, she explained, "I did a lot of babysitting in high school."
"That should come in handy," Ethan declared. With a hand at the small of her back, he led her to the rocking chair in the corner and watched as she seated herself. "My experience with children is pretty much limited to Ali, Cristian, and this one," he rubbed Hope's tiny shoulder comfortingly when she continued to cry.
"Ali and Cristian!" Beth remembered and started to get up. She gave Ethan a puzzled look when he took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back into the rocking chair.
"Relax," Ethan smiled. "They're fine," he assured her. "I left them in the living room playing Candy Land. Ali's letting Cristian win."
"That's sweet of her," Beth smiled back at him, feeling lulled herself by the peaceful rocking motion of the chair. "What?" she asked when she noticed the twinkle in Ethan's blue eyes.
"Ali's a great big sister to Cristian, yes, but she's also Luis's and Aunt Sheridan's daughter." Elaborating on his thoughts, he stated it plainly, "She's very competitive. I had to promise I'd play Monopoly with her later."
"Well," Beth digested that tidbit with a smile that quickly morphed into a grin. "Nobody's perfect." She fell silent, her eyes widening momentarily with the belated realization that all was quiet. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she looked up at Ethan, "I think she's asleep."
"Not quite, but almost," Ethan whispered back, cupping a palm over the base of Hope's skull. "Let me," he held his hands out to receive the baby, and with painstaking care, the transfer was completed within seconds.
Beth stood up slowly, shushing Hope when she fussed, and holding her breath waiting to see if it'd worked. Connecting eyes with Ethan, she nodded at Hope's crib, hand resting on his upper arm as he lowered the baby from his shoulder and into her bed. Leaning her chin against Ethan's shoulder, Beth watched the flutter of the curly black lashes and lost herself in the reassuring rise and fall of the tiny chest as Hope settled down. She had tears in her eyes when she slid her hand down Ethan's arm to tangle their fingers together. "I can't believe we're really going to do this."
"Me either," Ethan brought their hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of hers. He turned around, his back to the crib, and followed Beth to the window when she disengaged their hands. Her face was pale in the moonlight, contemplative. "Beth?"
"What changed your mind?" When that question only seemed to further stir Ethan's confusion, she made a clarification. "You weren't exactly sold on this idea when you first saw those pamphlets. I'm getting older. You've always said our age difference doesn't matter, but it does in this. It's going to be a lot harder for me to get pregnant now than it would have been if I were twenty. We both know that. Yesterday, earlier today," she stared into his unblinking blue eyes, "it was like your mind wasn't completely made up. But now you seem sure, confident. What's different now? What or who changed your mind?"
"Gwen," Ethan blurted. "Gwen changed my mind."
Shaking her head, Beth frowned. "I'm not following. What does Gwen have to do with us having a baby?"
"Nothing," Ethan was quick to say. "At least not directly." Taking Beth's tightly fisted hands between his own once more, he squeezed them gently, dropping his gaze. Shamefully, he admitted the source of his previous reservations. "You've been different, distracted, lately. I thought maybe you were seeing another man—that you wanted out of this marriage."
"Ethan," Beth tugged at her hands but he refused to let them go, and she willed herself to relax and look him in the eye as she spoke, even though her heartbeat was gaining force and speed behind her ribcage. "What made you think such a thing?"
"The errands for one," Ethan answered. "The errands and the phone calls and the late nights."
Addressing the most damaging evidence, Beth reminded Ethan, "Most of my girls are still in school, Ethan. Some of them, like Julie, even have other jobs. They're kids and they deserve to have some time to be kids. I'm perfectly capable of closing the Book Café so they don't have to."
"I know you still work at the Book Café because you enjoy it. I understand that and appreciate it," Ethan replied. "But Beth," he looked imploringly at her. "It's a job." Gently, he told her, hoping he wouldn't offend her, "It's not your life anymore."
"No," Beth conceded. "It's not." Sighing, she placed their clasped hands against Ethan's chest and whispered an apology. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I made you feel…"
Ethan cut her off with an apology of his own. "I was wrong to think what I did. I know now I should have trusted you, that we have no secrets between us." Letting go of one of her hands, he guided her head to his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. After a moment, he pulled back to grin at her. "Want to come watch a nine-year-old take me to the cleaners?"
Beth traced her fingertips over the edges of his smile and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "In a minute." Picking up the nearby baby monitor and handing it to him, she let her gaze wander toward the crib and the sleeping child inside. "I just want to make sure she doesn't wake up and wonder where we're at," she murmured, trailing her fingers down to his collar and straightening it. "In a minute, I promise," she returned his smile, shooing him from the room.
"Beth," Ethan lingered in the nursery doorway again.
"Hmm?" Beth turned to acknowledge him.
"You're going to make a great mom," he said, then left.
Alone, in the shadows the moonlight didn't reach, Beth covered her face with her hands and allowed her smile to slip away. In her pants pocket, her phone continued to vibrate, unanswered.
"More mashed potatoes, Theresa?" T.C. held up the bowl in offering.
Theresa wasn't sure she wouldn't turn into an Idaho potato if she ate anymore, but she didn't tell T.C. that, only lifted her plate with a big smile. "Please."
Behind her napkin, Simone's lips twitched, and her large eyes shone with humor as they connected across the table with Chad's eyes. Feigning a cough, she grabbed her glass of water and looked down at her own plate to find her dad had replenished her supply of mashed potatoes when she wasn't looking. "Daddy," she complained.
"You're getting too skinny," T.C. retorted, "chasing all those kids down at the Youth Center."
"How was the Youth Center today, Sweetheart?" Eve joined the conversation mid-stream, carefully setting a steaming peach pie down in the center of the table.
"She needs a real job if she's going to stay in Harmony, Eve," T.C. interjected. "I know you're doing a good thing for Sheridan and those kids, Sugar Bear, but volunteering won't pay the rent."
"She's welcome to stay here as long as she wants," Eve interrupted her husband before he could get carried away. Frowning, she prodded, "Tell her, T.C."
"What your mom said," T.C. sighed, digging into the peach pie and whistling when the first distracted bite scalded his tongue.
"Careful," Eve chastised with a meaningful look. "It's hot."
Watching the interplay and glancing at Chad out of the corner of her eyes, Theresa bit back a smile, leaning forward and making a suggestion. "You could work at Over the Rainbow. A couple of the girls are going to be leaving for college out of state soon, and I could use the extra help."
"Thanks," Simone said. "I'll keep that in mind." Turning to her mother, she made an effort to get their conversation back on track and draw Chad out of his self-imposed shell in one-shot, knowing what she had to say would be of interest to him. "The Youth Center was fine, Mom. A couple of the kids wanted Sheridan to teach them how to tango, and it wasn't going too well until one of Luis's old friends dropped by and danced with her. He wasn't as good as Luis, but he was pretty close. The kids loved it. It was all they could talk about the rest of the day."
Her interest piqued, Theresa blurted a question before Chad could comment. "One of Luis's old friends? Really?"
Simone nodded. "I didn't catch his name, but there was something familiar about him that I couldn't place. Sheridan seemed pretty comfortable with him."
Theresa failed to notice the way T.C.'s brows rose at that particular statement, but Chad didn't, shifting beside her uncomfortably. He smiled tightly and nodded when Eve offered him a piece of pie, immediately attacking it with his fork. When Theresa rest her hand upon his thigh and squeezed, Chad interpreted the signal for what it was and blurted the first safe thing he could think of to say. "Auntie's a pretty good dancer. She should give lessons."
Thinking about how well-loved Sheridan was by the children, Simone agreed, "She should."
"She really should," Theresa agreed as well, beaming as the beginnings of an idea began to form inside her head.
Uh oh, Simone thought, stifling a groan. The long years Theresa had been Whitney's best friend meant she knew exactly what that smile forecast: another Theresa dream in the making. Glancing at her mother, Simone knew that she recognized the look as well and was doing her best to hide her own knowing smile as Theresa practically bounced in her seat.
"It's perfect. I don't know why I didn't think about this before."
"Think about what?"
T.C., it seemed, was the last person to clue in to Theresa's train of thought as Chad was already indulging her whims with a patient grin, gently reminding her that Sheridan more than had her hands full at the moment. "T-girl, Hope's four months old."
"Almost four months old," Eve corrected him with a smile.
"Close enough," Chad conceded the point. "Point is…" he sighed, train of thought stalling at the way Theresa's bright smile was wavering uncertainly.
"I've been wondering what to do with the studio, and Sheridan would be the ideal person…"
Surprisingly, it was T.C. to the rescue, fork paused in front of his mouth. "Right now those babies need some time with their mama just as much as she does with them." It was exactly the right and the wrong thing to say; their conversation stalled to a complete stop as everyone mulled the words, and the past year, over.
The room sprang back to life, though, when Simone picked one word out of the thread of conversation and spun it off in a completely new direction. "Speaking of babies…"
Babies, Abby would admit only to herself, she loved; pregnancy not so much. Groaning, she pulled herself to her feet, swaying just slightly, and flushed the toilet before grabbing a cloth from the shelf at her side and holding it under the running faucet. There was a tiny tremor in her hand as she raised it to her face and blotted at her feverish skin with the cloth. Her face was pale and her eyes stared tiredly back at her in the reflection of the mirror as she lowered her hand. Closing her eyes, she took a deep steadying breath and willed her heart to cease its pounding and return to a normal rhythm. They opened slowly at the nearby sound of his voice.
Moving into the small confines of the bathroom, Nick took the cool cloth from her hand and gently moved it over her skin, his other hand anchoring on her hip and helping to hold her upright. "I thought the worst of this was over."
Huffing a small laugh, Abby leaned into his tender touch, her smile wry. "Me too. Guess your kid doesn't like the smell of garlic. Too bad, too," hazel eyes blinked up at him. "I was trying to make you dinner." Unconsciously resting against him, she tracked his movements as he squeezed some toothpaste onto her toothbrush—predictably from the end and not the middle—and held it up in offering. "Trying to tell me something?" she raised a teasing brow at the gesture, swallowing back the wave of nausea when she stuck the toothbrush into her mouth. Finishing the task as quickly as possible, she spit the toothpaste from her mouth and rinsed with the glass of water he pushed into her hand, resisting the overwhelming urge to be sick. "I hate you, you know," she muttered into his side when he tucked her under his arm and walked them both out of the bathroom and into the living room.
"I know," Nick's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he settled her on the couch, pulling at the blanket tossed into the corner when he noticed the shiver she couldn't control.
Tugging her legs up and tucking them close to her chest, Abby hugged her arms around her knees and shook her head, feeling the sting of bile rising in the back of her throat. "I'm not cold. I…" she paled again, eyes snapping shut and fingers clenching and unclenching, her knuckles whitening. "Could you…" A slow inclination of her tawny head indicated the kitchen, and the tone of her voice was pleading.
"I'll be right back," Nick promised, disappearing from her sight. Several minutes passed, and when he returned, her color was a much more human shade, her position a little more relaxed. "Better?" he questioned, easing onto the couch beside her and opening his arms. He brushed a kiss to the top of her head when she tucked herself around him, laying her head over his heart.
Letting the even beat of his pulse soothe her, Abby nodded after a few seconds' hesitation. It was better. Releasing a slow breath, she cuddled further into his arms. "What did you do with it?"
Nick tensed momentarily then relaxed, a sheepish laugh escaping as he admitted, "I threw it away."
Slapping at the hand that sought her fingers in mock-outrage, Abby grumbled, "Shows what you think of my cooking."
"Well, I'm not the one it was making sick," Nick teased, combing the fingers of his other hand through her soft hair. "No more spaghetti or garlic bread until baby says so, okay?"
"No more," Abby muttered, swearing softly under her breath when just talking about it made her stomach muscles clench.
"Want to watch some tv?" Nick kissed her again, this time on her forehead, the touch sweet and lingering. Glancing at the remote on the coffee table, he hoped she said no; he was loathe to disturb the simple moment of peace between them, reluctant to let the evening lead him into a conversation he realized he wasn't ready for, not tonight anyway.
"Mind if I just use you as a pillow for a while?" Abby yawned against his shoulder, unconsciously seeking his hand and lacing their fingers together as she shifted into a more comfortable position. "So tired," her words started to slur as her heavy-lidded hazel eyes drooped.
"Sleep," Nick told her, staring ahead at their distorted reflection on the blackened screen of the television, a lump forming in his throat at the trust she still showed him, even though he'd yet to be as giving with his own heart. "I'll be here when you wake up."
Abby sighed and relaxed completely against him. "Better be."
"Katie."
Miguel sounded as surprised as Katie herself felt to find herself here, crying on his doorstep. Thankfully, he didn't mention the tears that she brushed away carelessly with her knuckles, only stepped aside to usher her in.
Katie's green eyes took in the worn-looking sofa and the toys littering the floor, and the general absence of children's voices didn't register with her until Miguel spoke again, chasing away the silence.
"Grace took them," he informed her, bending and grabbing toys by the handful, clearing a pathway as they went further into the house. "She mentioned calling you, checking if you minded Kendall spending the night with her and Sam."
Shaking her head slightly, Katie finally spoke. "I left my cell phone in the car with Noah." Off Miguel's confused look, she continued by way of explanation, "He's on a case."
"How…" Miguel began, only to falter, chiding himself that it was none of his business. Instead, he offered her something to drink and found himself surprised when she nodded and followed him into the kitchen. He was aware of the intermittent drip-drip of the faucet and the ticking of the wall clock as he searched his cabinets for a clean glass. She took the glass he filled for her, wrapping both hands around it and staring into its depths. He didn't know who was more startled, him or her, when she suddenly seemed to find her voice again, answering his unfinished question.
"I walked here. From the Book Café. I couldn't stand the waiting, so I left, and somehow I ended up here." She lifted reddened green eyes to his face and kept them there, attempting and failing to form an apologetic smile.
"You thought Kendall was here." Miguel meant it as a statement of fact, but it came out sounding much more like a question.
"I thought Kendall was here," Katie confirmed with a little, rasping sigh. Repeating herself, she looked away in embarrassment and held the glass out to him, "I thought Kendall was here, and he isn't. And I'm so sorry to come in here like this, and…I'll just…I'll just go."
Miguel took the glass in one hand, held her motionless by the wrist with the other. Swallowing hard at the sparkling sheen of tears in her green eyes, he let his fingers slide down until they touched hers and gave her hand a tiny tug, leading her back into the living room. When she was settled on the couch, he took a seat beside her, and waited for her to talk. "Are you," pausing to clear his throat, he continued, "are you upset about Noah?"
Katie's only response was a quizzical look.
"Kay," Miguel forced her name from his lips past an emotion-tightened throat, "always said the waiting was the worst. Being the child of a police officer gave her a better appreciation for how short life really is. It also gave her a new sense of respect for her mother. I can't imagine how hard it must be to never know…"
"If he's coming back?" Katie finished for him in a whisper. Then, more quietly, "Yes, you can. You know exactly how hard." The tears collecting in her eyes spilled over, and this time, she didn't bother to wipe them away. She sucked in a shaky breath when she felt the fleshy pad of Miguel's thumb brush across her dampened cheek.
"Tell me what's wrong," Miguel implored gently, concern in his warm brown eyes.
Biting her lip, Katie captured his hand and squeezed it gratefully, lowering it to her lap. "No," she said resolutely. "You're sweet to worry, but I shouldn't be bothering you with this." When she stood, Miguel joined her, and Katie realized their hands were still clasped. Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand from his, instantly missing the warmth of his touch.
"Is it about today?" Miguel ventured a guess. "At the hospital," he elaborated. "You were upset about something, before Noah came."
"Today," Katie finally managed a tiny smile, finding her voice. "Yesterday, and the day before that. I guess I'm letting my own past experiences have too much influence over my feelings about situations that are really none of my business." Her smile broadened and lightened with affection when she noticed the bewildered expression he wore, and she stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek, her hand lingering on his shoulder as she pulled back. "Thank you, Miguel," she said softly.
"For what?" Miguel returned her smile, eyes clouded with confusion and concern. "I didn't do anything."
"You did plenty," Katie disagreed, her own green eyes still wet and glistening. Glancing over his shoulder at the door, she murmured, "I better go."
Walking her out, Miguel stuck his hands in his jeans pocket and shrugged bashfully when her kiss inadvertently brushed the corner of his mouth in lieu of his cheek. He was blushing as he told her, "The offer still stands. Anytime you want to talk…"
"I know where to find you," Katie nodded. "You're a good guy, Miguel. Take care of yourself."
Miguel watched her go, hoping she'd do the same for herself.
Leaning through the rolled down window, Luis reached for Sheridan's face, cupping her jaw in his palm. Meeting and encouraging her kiss, he pulled back with a sigh and a promise. "I'll be right back. Call the club, see if they can push back our reservations."
Sheridan watched him go, tugging at the collar of his shirt and unbuttoning the top two buttons as he approached Noah and a couple of other officers standing beside a squad car. She waved at Noah and Quinlan when they nodded at her in acknowledgement, then fished through her purse for her cell phone. Its screen reflected the flashing strobe-like red and blue lights as she scrolled through the phone book and selected the correct number. Lifting the phone to her ear, she flashed Luis a quick smile before speaking to the voice that answered. "Hi, this is Mrs. Lopez-Fitzgerald. I'm afraid something's come up, and my husband and I are going to have to cancel our reservations. I'm sorry too," she couldn't help releasing a small sigh. "Thank you for your understanding. We will." Lowering the phone from her ear, she returned it to her purse after noting she had no new voicemails and deciding it wouldn't exactly be a vote of confidence in Beth's and Ethan's combined abilities to watch her children if she kept calling and keeping tabs on them. Instead, she withdrew her day planner from her purse and flipped through its pages idly.
T-ball practices occupied most of her upcoming afternoons, with days at the Youth Center taking up much of her days. Hope's pediatrician wanted to see her soon, and Cristian's flying lessons were due to start at the end of the month if all went well.
Sheridan wore a soft, fond smile whenever she thought about Cristian's flying lessons. Her little son was more excited than she had ever seen him, and she was looking forward to spending some more one on one time with him. In fact, it was something they both sorely needed. Soaring through Harmony's blue skies had proven to be a welcome release she hadn't realized she'd lacked, and she'd felt a certain kind of peace knowing that she was passing on something she loved to her little boy. Her musings were interrupted when Noah appeared at her window.
His smile was sheepish and his silver eyes were rueful. "Sorry." His long, blunt fingers wrapped around the door's edge and he ducked his head. "I know you guys had plans."
Sheridan dismissed his regrets with a wave of her hand. "It doesn't really matter what we do in the time we spend together," she said. And it was true, the years lost to her had taught her that. "Besides, I kind of like seeing him in action. As long as he's not writing me a ticket."
Noah matched her smirk, tossing a look over his broad shoulder. "He's one of the best. Ranks right up there with my dad. But don't tell him I said that," he warned, his grin making his silver eyes dance as Luis approached.
"Are you flirting with my wife?" Luis looked askance at Noah as he opened the driver's side of the SUV and climbed in beside Sheridan.
Noah merely pressed his lips together and winked at Sheridan when he thought Luis wasn't looking. "So what if I am? I think the missus looks very…"
"Don't finish that thought," Luis cautioned, turning the key in the ignition and making the SUV's engine rumble to life.
Undaunted, Noah forged ahead, both sincere and teasing, "…beautiful tonight as always." Picking up Sheridan's hand, he decided to lay it on thick, pressing a noisy kiss to her smooth skin and causing her to erupt into helpless laughter when Luis's long arm swept past her to push Noah bodily out the window.
"Cool it, Casanova," Luis rolled his eyes, a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth. "You have witnesses to question, work to do. Quinlan promised to lend a hand so he could get home to his family and you could take Katie home at a decent hour."
"Say hello for me," Sheridan requested, re-fastening her seatbelt low around her hips when Luis put the vehicle in reverse and Noah started to backpedal to the squad car.
"I'll do that," Noah assured her. Saluting Luis, he turned to go, "Chief."
"Get to work," Luis ordered gruffly, feeling Sheridan's palm hover over then settle upon his own. "And you," he playfully squeezed her fingers, refusing to let go of her hand, "stop encouraging him by looking so damn beautiful."
Blue eyes twinkling at him in the darkness, Sheridan ran her free hand down the skirt of her dress and played coy. "So you like my dress?"
Teeth gleaming white, brown eyes hungry, he returned his attention to the road in front of him with extreme difficulty while she did her best to stir up mischief an arm's length away, knowing damn well he liked her dress. "Someone else sure seemed to like your dress," he remarked knowingly.
Beneath the smirk run a current of unfounded jealousy, and Sheridan softened her teasing, a new sincerity in her demeanor as she lifted their joined hands and lay her cheek against them, murmuring his name.
"I don't like your dress," Luis responded, finally chancing a glance in her direction.
Sheridan held her breath and waited, wondering if she'd taken her earlier teasing a little too far. But Luis's next words were all the reassurance she needed.
"I love your dress."
The docks weren't safe, for the moment the Book Café was off-limits, and anywhere else familiar meant his chances of being seen by the wrong people were too great. He was all out of options, and his lungs burned with the exertion of trying to flee the inevitable—with a sobbing child in his arms.
The beach seemed like the safest place, and the water pulled and swirled around his ankles, washing his footprints away.
The girl's iron grip never lessened, not even when he collapsed against a craggy wall of rock, the ocean's cool spray misting over them. She curled into the shielding comfort of the jacket he wrapped around them both, tears hot against the skin of his neck.
"I think we lost them," he spoke into her soft, disheveled hair. Tawny strands tickled at his chin with each breath that he dragged in, and her small chest heaved against his own. "Come on, sweetheart," he tried to soothe. "Don't cry. We lost them. Nobody's going to take you away." Coaxing her to look at him, he felt his heart twist when she raised her head enough for him to stare into her teary chocolate eyes.
Chin trembling, she relaxed her desperate hold on his neck just enough to grab handfuls of his collar.
Then she whispered the first words he'd heard her speak since this whole crazy game of cat and mouse had begun, words that reminded him she belonged to somebody, and if he didn't safely return her soon, he'd be in a helluva lot more trouble than he'd bargained for when he'd dared set foot in this place again. In that moment, she looked more like five than the nine or ten years he'd guessed her to be.
"I want my daddy."
"I know you do, sweetheart. I know you do," he murmured against her brow, carefully shifting her weight to his other arm. Wincing at the pins and needles sensation that traveled up and down the newly unburdened extremity, he placed it between her shoulder blades, tracing slow, calming circles there. "I'll get you home to him soon," he promised. "What's his name?"
Her sobs had gradually faded into sniffles, and her answer was muffled against his neck. "Christopher."
"That's a good name," he said, easing them into a more comfortable position and using the weather-hewn rock as a bench of sorts. "You never did tell me yours." He'd heard her name at the Youth Center, of course, but, admittedly, he hadn't been paying much attention to the children. "Wait, I think I remember." Lynnie? Libby? Lizzie? "Lissy?" Trying the name out, he was relieved to find his memory wasn't as faulty as he'd previously surmised when she moved her head in a slow nod. "Pretty name. Is it short for something?"
"Alyssa," she mumbled and lifted her head again, the ocean winds whipping her tawny hair about her flushed face. "But only Mommy called me that."
Her eyes glittered at him in the darkness, and he prayed the tears wouldn't make a return appearance. Thankfully, they didn't, and she dropped her head tiredly to his shoulder, shivering in the cool night air. Unconsciously tightening his arms around her, he turned slightly, protecting her from the elements with his body. Gazing up at the stars that lit the navy sky, he forced himself to relax, to settle in, and wait. "Sleep. I promise I won't let anything happen to you, Lissy."
"You can call me Alyssa if you want," Lissy half-sighed, half-yawned, burrowing deeper into the warmth he provided.
"Alyssa." He smiled at the honor, and the name displayed on his vibrating cell phone when he retrieved it from his inside jacket pocket. Playing it safe, he waited until the vibrations stopped and listened to the voicemail for the familiar voice before releasing a breath of relief, knowing their wait would soon come to an end. Calling the number back and leaving a message of his own, he closed the phone, placing it back inside his pocket and sneaking a glance at the child that slept so trustingly in his embrace.
Lissy barely stirred as he made an offer of his own.
"You can call me Tony."
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