Deeply, Desperately (25 page)

"I'm not," Marisol said.

Em sniffled. "I think it's rather sweet, actually. I always want the two of you to look after me."

Dad cleared his throat again. "All is well now?"

I nodded.

Em walked up to my father and said, "Not yet. How do you know Joseph's not my true love? You sounded so sure."

He chucked her on the chin. "Experience." He nodded and smiled at me, giving silent permission to tell Em and Marisol the truth.

I let out my breath. I hadn't liked keeping secrets from them, and couldn't wait to fill them in on the auras, on Cupid, on everything.

Dad said, a twinkle in his eye much like Santa's, "Good day, ladies."

Em flopped into a chair. "What now?"

Marisol crouched next to Em. I sat on the edge of the table. "Anything you want," I said to her.

"My parents aren't talking to me. My wedding is off. I don't have a job. I don't have a place to live. I can't even hock my wedding dress because I went and ruined it."

"You're such a loser," Marisol drawled out.

Em's jaw dropped. Then she started laughing. Next thing I knew the three of us were hugging again.

"You can stay with me as long as you want," I offered.

"Or me," Marisol said.

Em sniffed. "First I should probably go pack my things. I only have a suitcase worth, maybe two. The rest of my stuff is in storage. Joseph doesn't like clutter."

Talk about a loser.

"All right," I said, slipping into my coat. Cara could wait. Em came first. And this little detour was just the time I needed to explain everything to them.
"But please tell me you're not taking the painting over the sofa."

"No way, it's hideous," Em said.

Marisol wrapped a scarf around her neck. "Really? I kind of liked it."

Em and Marisol had been stunned by the aura news. They hadn't asked many questions, but I knew they would come.

As soon as Dovie heard about Em being homeless, she insisted Em come stay with her. She would love the company, she had the room, and she pointed out that the minute Em's mother heard about it (which Dovie would make sure of) that rift would be well on the road to repair.

I watched Thoreau bounce around outside. The sun was setting, turning the snow a beautiful orange red.

Lights were blazing in Aerie's downstairs windows, and I'd been invited up for Dovie's (in)famous stew. After that, I had plans to see Cara Frankin.

"Thoreau," I called, slapping my thighs. "Come on."

Thoreau pranced into the house, shaking his fur. Grendel pounced as soon as he had an opening, and the pair tumbled across the living room, bumping against the coffee table.

The paper I'd found lodged under the sofa that morning fluttered down. I grabbed it before Grendel
could make confetti, and was about to tuck it in my tote bag when I started reading.

I stared at the paper from Sarah's file and was trying to figure out what was bothering me.

I read and reread the paragraph about Jake's injury--the one that sent him into emergency surgery on his first birthday--an intestinal bleed that was almost always caused by blunt force, physical abuse. The injury Scott was supposedly responsible for.

Then it hit me. Jake had been hurt on his first birthday.

What had Scott said to me at the park? That he'd been working double shifts ... and had missed Jake's birthday. Jake was one when Sarah went missing, so there had only been one birthday Scott could have been referring to.

Scott couldn't possibly be responsible for Jake's injury ... he hadn't even been home. And he'd also missed Maddie's first day of preschool--the day she'd broken her arm.

Which left only one person who could have hurt the children.

Sarah.

A half hour later, I'd scarfed down a bowl of stew, endured a guilt trip from Dovie about working so hard, and was on my way to Rockland, driving with one hand, punching numbers into my cell phone with the other. I hoped I wasn't making a huge mistake.

I was pretty sure the only reason Em agreed to stay with Dovie was because she knew how hard this
time of year was for my grandmother. And it gave me warm fuzzies that Em would be trying to help Dovie at a time like this.

And it also reminded me that I'd never followed up on my plan to help Dovie through this season.

The phone rang and rang. I almost chickened out and thought about hanging up, but remembered all the blind dates Dovie had set me up on. There was no way she could get mad at me for doing the same.

Finally the phone was picked up. "John McGill."

"Hi, Mr. McGill, it's Lucy Valentine."

"Well, young lady, I didn't think I'd hear from you so soon. I'm fresh out of jobs."

I smiled as the snow-covered landscape zipped by. The road had been caked with salt and sand, dirtying the edges at the curbs. "Good thing I don't need one. It's last-minute, but I was wondering if you'd be interested in attending a party Saturday night at my grandmother's home in Cohasset."

"Your grandmother, you say?"

"She's quite lovely."

I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "And single, I take it?"

"Very."

He laughed. "And what does she say about this?"

"She doesn't know. You see, Mr. McGill, matchmaking is in my blood."

"It doesn't mean you're any good at it."

How very true. "Only one way to find out."

"Did you inherit her smile?"

"As a matter of fact ..."

"What time should I arrive?"

I turned on to the Loehmans' street as I finished giving him directions to Dovie's and said good-bye.

I didn't want to see Dovie go through another Christmas crying over an old box of letters. That she had kept them this long was something in itself. Though I had to laugh, because I had most of my old love letters too, from boyfriends past. Those sorts of mementos were hard to throw away, no matter how the relationship ended.

Those sorts of mementos ...

I nearly ran off the road. My tire bumped over the curb before I regained control.

Quickly, I pulled over and my GPS woman snottily told me I still had three tenths of a mile to go before reaching my destination. Grabbing my cell phone, I dialed Leo Epperson. His phone rang once, twice, three times.
Please answer, please answer ...
Four, five, six ...
Come on, Leo!
Seven, eight, ni--

"Hello?" Winded, he added, "I'm here. Hello?"

"Leo! It's Lucy."

"Darling, hold on." A second later he was back. "All right. I had to take off my boots. Dripping all over the house. I was out on the back porch and thought I heard the phone ring. Any news for me?"

"I'm hoping you have some for me."

"How so?"

"Did you ever write Joanne letters? Like a love letter?"

"Of course."

"Women most always keep love letters, Leo."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I think I may be able to get a reading. Can I come over? About an hour?"

"Sure thing!"

Hanging up, I continued down the street. My good mood evaporated as I pulled to the curb under a street lamp in front of the Loehmans' house. I took in the white split-level with black shutters with dismay.

A wintry breeze nipped my ears as I climbed the front steps. Snow covered the lawn, hung from the evergreen shrubs. The red front door bore a cheerful wreath of cranberries and jingle bells.

I knocked.

I heard soft footsteps. The door opened. Sarah Loehman was almost unrecognizable--again. Gone was the platinum hair, replaced now with a pretty auburn brown. Her haggard face had been softened by makeup that artfully hid what was left of her bruise, but couldn't quite conceal the pain lingering in her eyes.

"Lucy! I'm so glad you're here. I've been wanting to call you. Come in." She held open the door.

Inside, the scent of baking cookies filled the air. She led me to the back of the house. To my left in the family room, a tall Christmas tree twinkled in a corner, and a small fire crackled in a marble fireplace. She turned right, into the kitchen.

"I thought I would get some baking done while Scott took the kids Christmas shopping. They've been a little uncertain about having me home. Scott thought having them help choose my Christmas presents might help in the transition. They don't realize that
they
are my presents."

Spread out on the kitchen table were dozens of sugar cookies in varying shapes and sizes. Gingerbread men, bells, stars, Christmas trees, reindeer, stockings. All waiting to be frosted and sprinkled with colored sugars.

"That's a lot of cookies," I said.

She laughed. "I know I went overboard, but I've missed Christmastime with them. Please sit down."

I sat, my heart heavy. "You look happy."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm trying to come to terms that I deserve a second chance. Scott insists everyone does, but ... I know I've made a lot of mistakes."

I nodded to the cookies. "Is this part of making up for them?"

"I guess. In a way."

"Have you spent much time with your mother?" I asked.

"Only briefly." Sarah poked at a cookie. "At the hospital."

I pressed. "She admitted to me she's made a lot of mistakes too. With you."

Her eyes flashed. "She said that?"

I nodded.

"She's right."

I thought of Faye Dodd and the love I'd seen in her eyes when she spoke of Sarah. And the love I'd seen in Sarah's eyes when she spoke of Maddie and Jake.

"I came across something in your file today."

"Oh?"

"About Jake's first birthday. And Maddie's first day of preschool."

I didn't need to say more. Splotches of red formed on her cheeks. A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm trying to make it up to them. I love them. Back then I didn't have the patience to be a mother. A good mother. I was angry all the time, so unhappy. I thought life was all about me, me, me."

"What happened?"

"On Jake's first birthday, I was rushing around, trying to get everything right. I was mad that Scott had to work, that he didn't seem to realize how much I had to do on my own. I accidentally knocked into Jake. He fell into the coffee table. He cried and cried, and I only got angrier. I finally put him in his crib. After a while I realized he was still crying. I went in, fit to burst, but one look at his face and I knew it was bad. I took him straight to the ER. I told them he fell into the table. And they told me it had to have been with some force to tear his intestine. I didn't tell them the truth and no one really pushed for it."

"Did Scott know?"

She shook her head. "I never told him."

"And with Maddie?"

"We were running late for her first day of preschool. She was dancing around, laughing, giggling. Jake was fussy. It was just one of those mornings. On our way out the door, I had Jake in one arm and was trying to hurry Maddie along with the other hand on her back to keep her moving. I thought she had hold of the handrail but she didn't. She fell down the steps and broke her arm. If I hadn't been pushing her ..." She shook her head. "I didn't purposely hurt them,
but I was a terrible mother. No patience at all. Always losing my temper, always wishing I were somewhere else."

"And Scott didn't see any of this?"

"He worked so much. I resented him for that. Blamed him. Somehow convinced myself it was Scott's fault I was like I was. I was stupid, thinking a different man would make me happy, which is when I met Jerry. It took a long time for me to realize I was the only one in control of my happiness. I had a lot of time to soul-search while I was ... away. I'm a different person now. I really am."

"I believe that, Sarah. I really do. I see it in your eyes." Slowly, I stood. "I came because I wanted to tell you that I have to turn this information over to the police. I didn't want the news to blindside you."

Her face paled. "But I thought you understood! I didn't hurt them on purpose! I've changed! Don't you think I've been punished enough?"

This was hard. So hard. "I think what you've been through is more than one person should ever bear. But for Maddie's and Jake's sake I need to make sure that you've really changed. I doubt after what you've been through the prosecutor will seek neglect charges, Sarah. They'll probably assign a social worker to monitor the kids. You have every chance to prove not only to the kids--but to you too--that you're going to be a different mother. A good mother. But here's the thing. You have a lot of hard work in front of you. Work that goes a little deeper than making cookies. You're going to need a lot of support from people
who love you despite the mistakes you made. And perhaps the mistakes they've made."

She followed me to the front door. "You're talking about my mother."

I turned the doorknob. "You want your kids to forgive you. Don't you think you should set the example? Second chances
are
a precious gift."

"Maybe you're right," she said softly as a car pulled into the driveway.

I stepped outside as Scott unbuckled the kids from their car seats. He smiled when he saw me, waved. The kids came running forward calling out, "Mommy, Mommy!"

I looked at Sarah, saw the determination in her eyes, and hoped I wasn't wrong.

Leo had been watching for me. As soon as I pulled into his driveway, he opened his front door and waved me inside.

"I'm afraid to get my hopes up," he said once we were sitting in his living room.

"Even if this doesn't work, we'll find her. It's just a matter of time. Okay," I said, wishing Preston had answered her phone. She was going to be hopping mad she missed this. I held out my hand. "Think of one of the letters you wrote her."

A small smile played on his face.

I blushed. "You don't need to tell me what's in the letter."

"Darling, you're too young to hear such things." He placed his hand in mine. Images whirred by, taking
me south, along the coast, across turquoise waters. To an island and a small waterfront house. Inside the house the letters sat in an old shoebox inside a closet.

I pulled my hand back. Waiting for the dizziness to pass, I said, "Do you have a pen? Paper?"