Her Mother's Shadow (22 page)

“Zach went on a rampage?”

She shook her head. “No. When we got to the shelter, we were…
distraught,
is the best word for it, I guess. Annie was there, though, and she was…” Faye shook her head, remembering the natural beauty of the red-haired woman, the open smile, the warmth in her touch, the husky voice. Annie would still be alive now if she hadn't reached out to help her and Freddy. “She was one of those people who instantly made you feel like a friend,” she said. “Taken care of. Like you could turn all your worries over to her and she would carry them for you.” She turned to look at Jim. “Do you know what I mean?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“She got us settled in a room we would share with another woman and her two sons. It was cramped in the house, really a sad place to be on Christmas Eve, but Annie and the rest of the women running the shelter were wonderful. They did their best to make it cheery. There was a Christmas tree and Christmas music. Still, away from home, it was hard to feel much joy. Plus, Freddy wouldn't speak to me. He just kept crying.” Her son's crying had been full of anger, not sorrow. He'd been furious with her for bringing him there.

“We stayed there overnight,” she said. “I couldn't sleep at all. I kept wondering what Zach thought when he came home and found us gone. I'd left him a note saying we were safe but that we needed to give him some time alone to get help for himself. I really didn't know what to write. I kept remembering what he was like in the old days, the good Christmases the three of us had had together. I wanted to call him, to be sure he was all right, but of course, that was against the rules.”

Jim had grown quiet and she wished he would say something. He still sat with his elbows on his knees, looking out at the nice clean view from his nice clean property, perhaps wondering how he had allowed this woman into his nice clean life.

“The next day was Christmas,” she said. “Annie was gone, but some other women brought gifts for the children who were there. Fred wanted no part of it. He sat sulking in a corner. I tried to help the other women—there were five others and a bunch of children—because I thought if I could help them get through that day, it would make it easier on me.” It had. The stories the other women told were so much worse than hers. Some of them were bruised. One had a broken arm. Talking with them had made Faye wonder once again if she'd overreacted by leaving Zach and dragging Freddy to the shelter.

“Sometime in the afternoon, Annie came back,” she continued. “She had her thirteen-year-old daughter with her.” The girl had been a miniature version of her mother, and Faye often wondered what had become of her. “Some of the staff had cooked a really nice dinner for all of us, and we were in sort of a buffet line, filling our plates. All of a sudden, Zach showed up in the room. I don't think anyone ever figured out how he knew where the shelter was. It was supposed to be a safe house. They kept the door locked, but he
busted right through it with his shoulder. He was a big guy. And there he was, standing in the doorway, cursing me up and down and holding a gun straight at me.”

Jim sat back then and put his arm around her. “How terrifying,” he said.

“It was.” She nodded. “Then all of a sudden, Annie jumped in front of me and told him to put the gun down, and he ended up shooting her instead of me.” The memory was unbearable, and Faye began to cry. “I…I didn't know who he was anymore. He'd just gone crazy. And Annie died.”

“Oh, God.”

“She died trying to save Freddy and me. If she hadn't cared enough about us—about total strangers—to get us to the shelter to protect us from him, we would be dead. I have no doubt about it. Instead,
she
was the one to die.”

Jim pulled her closer. “I'm sorry she died,” he said, “but I'm very grateful that you and your son were spared.”

Faye rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes to the sunlight that now filled the sky. She sat quietly for a moment, her mind still in the Outer Banks. “People used to call her Saint Anne, and that was
before
all of this happened,” she said. “You can imagine how people felt about her afterward.”

“What happened to Zach?”

“He went to prison, and I filed for divorce right away,” she said. “Freddy and I moved to California as soon as we could, and I did what I'd always wanted to do—got my master's in nursing. I tried to forget about the past. Fred never forgave me, though. He said his dad only went crazy because we deserted him on Christmas. He never understood that Zach had gone crazy long before that day.”

Jim drew in a long, slow breath. “What a lot you've been through,” he said.

“I hate that you know this about me,” she said. “That I
had a crazy husband. That I spent time in a women's shelter. That my son hates me. That I—”

“Hey,” he said quietly. “That's the past. And it only makes me feel even more positively about you. About what a strong person you are. I admire you.”

“You do?”

“Look at what you've overcome,” he said. “Look how much you accomplished. And have you ever thought about the fact that you've paid it forward?”

“What do you mean?”

“Annie saved your life and you went on to do good things for other people. Think of all the people you've helped through your pain program.”

He made her sound far nobler than she felt, but his words touched her deeply.

“Thank you for saying that,” she said. “I'd really never looked at it that way.”

He took his arm from around her shoulders and turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. “I want you to go home now,” he said. “I'll find the pool stuff, and you can come back this evening and we'll go for a swim. And by the time you get here, the gun will be gone.”

Relief washed over her. She felt so cleansed. So free. “Thank you,” she said, starting to stand up, but he held her hands to keep her seated.

“And one more thing,” he said.

“What?”

He smiled at her, the sun catching the silver in his hair. “I love you,” he said.

W
earing bathing suits and wide-brimmed hats, Lacey and Gina sat on the sliver of beach just south of the lighthouse, slathering sunscreen on their legs and watching Mackenzie play with Rani and Sasha. Mackenzie, in her pink bikini, held Rani's hand as the little girl stomped her feet in the waves, and Sasha ran around them in joyful circles, splashing water into the air. What a threesome they were! A gentle threesome, at least in this configuration. In two and a half weeks' time, the bond between the dog, the toddler and the preteen had been woven and the threads pulled tight.

“Do you believe this?” Gina was grinning at the sight of the three playmates.

Lacey guessed Gina was referring to the way Mackenzie could turn from a moody little brat into a nurturing, loving girl when she was around Rani. Her tone of voice would change in an instant when the little girl entered the room.

“I know,” she said. “She has a good side to her.”

For a moment, Gina looked confused. Then she laughed.
“I was talking about Rani,” she said. “A month ago she couldn't even look at the ocean without crying.”

It was Lacey's turn to laugh. “You're right,” she said, curious to realize how each of them had a different child at the center of her universe. “She's come a long way.” Mackenzie flopped down on the wet sand, sitting where the waves would wash over her when they rushed onto the shore. She patted the sand next to her, but Rani was not quite that brave. Shaking her head no, the toddler remained standing, her eyes on her braver, older friend. She moved forward until she was right behind Mackenzie, and she patted her hands softly on the older girl's blond head, as if she needed to be touching her to feel safe with all that water around. Watching their interaction brought tears to Lacey's eyes. Rani was a gentle child; she always would be. Whether it was from being so sick early in her life, or being in an orphanage where noise was not only discouraged but ignored, or whether it was simply part of her nature, Lacey didn't know. But it always touched her to see Rani's struggle to find safety in her world.

“She loves having Mackenzie around,” Gina said. “I know you still have some issues with her, but I'm glad she's here. She's so good to Rani, and so good for her.”

Lacey nodded. “It's just me she hates.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Gina said, but Lacey knew her sister-in-law could not be much more encouraging than that.

“There was money missing from my wallet again this morning,” Lacey admitted.

“Did you ask her about it?”

Lacey shook her head. “I can't prove anything, so what could I say?” She had not been as careful about keeping her wallet out of Mackenzie's reach as she should have been. “At least she's starting to get along with Bobby,” she said. “It's funny, isn't it? I mean she's never really had a man in her
life and yet she seems more comfortable with him than with anyone.” The day before, Bobby had taken Mackenzie all the way to Hatteras for her first ride on a horse. She didn't have much to say to him, Bobby had told Lacey later, but she'd stopped giving snotty retorts to everything he said, and that was certainly more than Lacey could claim.

“I bet she really missed having a father,” Gina said. “She seems to like Clay, too.”

“Because he works with dogs,” Lacey said.

“Go ahead, Rani!” Gina called to her daughter. “You can sit down next to Mackenzie. She'll hold your hand.”

Rani turned to shake her head at her mother, then dug her fingers deeper into Mackenzie's hair and kept her eyes on the waves. She wore a tiny, blue, one-piece bathing suit that hid the long scar from her surgery. Her skin was a nut-brown color, her hair now down to her shoulders and jet black.

“Bobby suggested I give Mackenzie some work to do around the house,” Lacey said. They'd talked about it the day before, at the gym. She'd gotten him a guest membership and had started going with him in the late afternoon. She was talking to him more than she was Rick these days. Bobby was not the sort of unselfish, completely attentive listener Rick was, but there was an intensity to their conversations that was lacking when she talked to Rick. “He said it would do her good to have some responsibility,” she added.

“I think he's right,” Gina said. “It would make her feel more like she's part of the family.”

“What should I have her do?”

“Vacuum?” Gina suggested. “Dust? Sweep the kitchen? You know how much sand gets in that room, and we don't sweep it nearly enough. They're going to have to refinish those floors again before they can open the museum.”

“Okay,” Lacey said, already dreading the conversation
with Mackenzie. “We'll start with sweeping the kitchen every evening.”

“Bobby showed me some of his scrimshaw yesterday,” Gina said. “It's incredible.”

“I know,” Lacey agreed. “He sold a lot of it at the craft fair, which was great because he doesn't have his usual following here.” She'd had no problem getting him a booth at the craft fair in Manteo. He'd been on the other side of the fairground from her, but she could see the crowd of people milling around the tables displaying his work.

“You know,” Gina said, “it's okay with Clay and me if you want to ask Bobby to move into the house while he's in the Outer Banks. He's around so much of the time, anyway, working in your sunroom or hanging out with Mackenzie, and then he wouldn't have to drive back and forth between here and Rick's.”

Lacey had been thinking about exactly that. There were two free bedrooms in the house, and he was there a good deal of the time, as Gina had said. But she knew it would be a mistake.

“I can't, Gina,” she said.

“Why not?”

She hesitated, looking toward the water. Mackenzie had moved up to slightly higher ground and Rani was now bravely sitting at her side, letting the tail end of the waves run over her legs. Sasha was lying down next to the little girl, cooling his belly in the water. “Because I'm way too attracted to him,” she said finally. “If he lived here, it would be too easy for me to slip into bed with him.”

“Wow, Lacey.” Gina sat up straight, one hand on her hat to keep the breeze from stealing it off her head. “I hadn't even thought about that. I've been thinking of you with Rick.”

“With nice, safe Rick, right?” Lacey smiled at her.

“Yes,” Gina said. “But now that you mention it, Bobby
is
your type, isn't he? Your old type?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“Good for you, then, to know it would be a mistake to have him here,” Gina said. “Rick doesn't put any pressure on you for…you know, to get closer, does he?”

Lacey laughed. “I don't even think Rick has a libido,” she said. “He's perfect for me.”

“I think he's great,” Gina said. “He's good-looking, he treats you well, he's comfortable to be around, he's intelligent and educated and probably makes boatloads of money as a lawyer. And he seems to really like you.”

She was right, on all counts, and Lacey didn't care. With Mackenzie's arrival, she'd forgotten her resolution to behave as though she was truly interested in him and wait for the “feelings to follow.”

“I am so screwed up, Gina,” she said, admitting her fears out loud for the first time.

Gina moved closer to put an arm around her. “No, you're not,” she said. “Why do you say that?”

Lacey drew a line in the sand with her finger. On one side she drew an
R,
on the other a
B.
“Here's Rick,” she said, pointing to the
R
side of the line. “He's handsome. Looks like a model or something, right? And here's Bobby.” She poked at the
B
with her fingertip. “He wears an earring, has a tattoo on his arm—”

“I noticed that,” Gina said. “What is it? I've only seen that part that hangs down below his sleeve.”

“It's a wooly mammoth,” Lacey said. She'd finally asked him to show her the tattoo a week ago.

“A wooly mammoth?” Gina laughed.

“Right. He uses wooly mammoth tusks for his scrimshaw,
so it seemed appropriate.” Lacey laughed. “And don't worry, he only has one.” She knew Gina was remembering a man they had known the summer before who'd been covered with tattoos and who had hurt them both.

Gina leaned forward and drew an
L
above the chart Lacey was making in the sand. “And here's Lacey,” she said. “And she's perfectly fine without any man.”

“I know that, Gina,” she said, only a bit annoyed by her sister-in-law's inference. It was easy for Gina to say; she'd found her soul mate in Clay. “If I've learned anything this year, I've learned that I can manage without a man. That doesn't mean that's what I want for the rest of my life, though.”

“Okay.” Gina seemed to sense that she'd stepped on some sensitive toes.

Lacey returned to her chart, pointing to the
R.
“And Rick drives a BMW,” she said, “while Bobby's been driving the same old rusty van since the beginning of time. And Bobby has a history as a drug addict, and Rick has one little glass of wine with dinner. And Rick was at the top of his law class, and Bobby didn't even finish his art degree. And Rick has money. And Bobby has very little. And do you know which one of them I want to spend my time with? Go to bed with? Bear the children of?” She was exaggerating on that last point, but Gina got the message.

“Bobby,” Gina said quietly.

“What is
wrong
with me?” Lacey wailed, and Sasha lifted his big head to look over at her. “Why do I always gravitate toward the guy who is bad for me? I am just like my mother. Just as self-destructive and—”

“Stop it, Lace,” Gina said quietly. “You're not like your mother at all. You've looked at what you were doing wrong and you've stopped doing it. Your mother never did that. And you know what else?”

“What?”

“I think you've got infatuation mixed up with love.”

“Possibly,” she admitted. “I was infatuated with Bobby when I was fourteen and the feelings I get around him now are almost exactly the same. I know that in my mind. But my heart and body don't care.”

“I think Rick's the sort of guy who could grow on you if you give him a chance,” Gina said. “Do you remember how I couldn't care less about Clay when I first met him? How I gradually fell in love with him?”

Lacey nodded, although she knew Gina's indifference to Clay had had more to do with her desperate need to adopt Rani than her feelings about Clay himself.

“Just keep yourself open to Rick,” Gina said. “See him more than you do. You haven't gone out with him much since Bobby arrived.”

Gina was right. She needed to see more of Rick, as she'd planned to do before learning about Jessica's death. She needed to remind herself how marginal Bobby's existence was, how her attraction to him was more physical than cerebral. She needed to reread that book about making good choices. She needed to remember how good Rick had been to her, how attentively he listened to her each time she called.

She studied the
R
in the sand. But how did you make yourself feel something when there was simply nothing there?