Falling Like Snowflakes (17 page)

Jack's legs stilled, his hands clutching at Beau's shirt. His wild eyes found Beau's.

“It's okay. You're okay. I got you.”

Jack's eyes flitted away to the crowd, scanning, darting. His body was rigid and unyielding.

What could he say? What did he know about kids, much less a kid who was freaking out?

Beau took Jack's chin and pulled it toward him firmly until the boy's eyes locked on him again. “It's okay. Was it the sound? That was just a car backfiring. That happens when unburned fuel gets into the muffler. You know what a muffler is?”

Jack continued to stare wide-eyed, unblinking. But he'd stilled, and some of the panic was gone from his eyes.

Keep talking.

“It's that part on the back of a car where the pipe comes out of the bottom. The heat of the exhaust system causes the fuel to combust—uh, to catch on fire—and that makes a really loud popping sound. Sometimes it sparks too. But it's harmless. That's all that noise was.”

Jack's body quaked against him, but the panic was fading, and his body was less rigid.

“Okay, buddy?” Beau pulled him into a hug.

Jack came willingly, his arms clamping tight around Beau, and he buried his face in Beau's neck, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Daddy!” The word sounded as if it had clawed its way to the surface.

Beau would have thought he'd imagined it if he hadn't felt the word echo against his chest. His heart ripped in two. He tightened his arms. What had happened to this kid?

God
, his heart cried, but he was lost for words.

“Let's go find your mom, okay?”

He rubbed the boy's back as he skirted people, his eyes straight ahead, focused on the coffee shop entrance. His mind spun with questions and theories, but he pushed them aside. All that mattered now was Jack.

Up ahead he saw Kate push through the door, coffee in hand. She held the door open for a patron, a smile on her face.

When she saw him hurrying toward her, their gazes connected and locked.

Her smile fell as she rushed forward. She dropped the cup, reaching for Jack. The same panic he'd seen on Jack's face traveled over Kate's.

“What happened?”

At the sound of her voice, Jack let loose of him and tumbled into Kate's arms. He clung to her like a barnacle on a boat.

“What happened?” she asked again, her wild eyes darting around, her feet twitching like she was poised for flight.

He took her arm. “He's fine. A noise startled him. A car backfired, and he just . . . freaked out.”

“Are you sure?” She looked over Jack's head, scanning the pressing crowd. “Are you sure that's all it was?”

His hand soothed her arm. “I'm sure. It's Gil Flannigan's Oldsmobile. It's been backfiring as long as I can remember.”

Jack's little body still trembled against Kate. She was murmuring something into his ear, rubbing his back.

People bustled to and fro on the sidewalk, skirting the parade crowd, jostling them. Another band was passing, the horns blaring.

He needed to get them out of there. He tugged her arm. “Come on,” he called over the music. Setting his hand on her back, he led her in the opposite direction toward the end of the parade route and around the corner.

The walkway to the chapel was clear of snow, and the salt crunched beneath their shoes. He led her up the three steps, opened the heavy wooden door, then guided her through the bright vestibule and into the sanctuary.

The door clicked behind them, shutting out the chaos. He led her to a padded pew, and they sank down on it.

She was whispering words he couldn't hear into Jack's ear, drawing her fingers through his curls.

Giving them a moment, Beau let the silence fill him. The hanging pendants were off. The only light spilled through the stained-glass windows, giving the room a soft amber glow.

He'd never sat in the sanctuary when it was empty. It felt different than it did on Sunday mornings when the strains of the pipe organ filled the room and voices lifted to heaven in praise.

It was peaceful, calming. He looked back at the pair beside
him. Jack was still wrapped around his mom, but he wasn't shaking anymore. Kate continued to whisper in her soothing voice, cheek to cheek with her son.

This is exactly what they needed
.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there before she finally spoke. “I think he fell asleep.”

Beau peeked over her shoulder. The boy's eyes were closed, his lips lax. “Think you're right.”

She looked around, as if seeing her sanctuary for the first time. “Is this where you go to church?”

“Yeah. They keep the doors unlocked during the daytime. Pastor Daniels is usually around, but he's probably watching the parade with everyone else.”

“It's peaceful.” She drew a deep breath and blew it out, ruffling Jack's hair. He didn't so much as stir. “We haven't been to church in months.”

He heard the longing in her voice. “You should go with us sometime, now that Aunt Trudy's getting around better. Tomorrow.”

“Maybe.”

“The people are nice. Welcoming. There's a great kids' program.”

Her eyes shuttered, and he knew he'd lost her. She wouldn't leave Jack in a class. She'd barely left him with Beau for two seconds—and when she had, look what had happened.

Beau's eyes fell on the kid's face, his heart melting as he remembered the panic in his eyes.

“What happened back there?” he asked.

Kate ducked her head, burying her nose in Jack's curls.

He hadn't wanted to press her, but his mind had been busy while he'd been sitting here, and he didn't like the direction of his thoughts.

“He thought it was a gunshot, didn't he?”

She continued to rub Jack's back. She swallowed, closing her eyes.

“Come on, Kate. Give me something.”

She turned toward him, her eyes searching his. What was she looking for? Trustworthiness? Compassion?

She turned away, her eyes fixing on the altar. “His dad was killed,” she said softly. “He saw the whole thing. Right there in our driveway.”

A fist tightened in his gut.

Kate stared into the distance, seeming to float away to another time and place. “Jack watched the clock every night, waiting for him, and as soon as his car would stop in the drive I'd let him run out. They had this game where his dad would swoop him up in his arms and swing him around like he was an airplane. He'd laugh and laugh. One night I was in the house when Jack ran out to meet him. I heard the sound and—”

She swallowed again, her eyes finding Jack's face. Her mouth closed as if thinking better of saying any more.

“It's been so long since I've heard him laugh.” Her voice was a thready whisper.

He couldn't imagine. It had been hard enough when his own dad had died. He couldn't imagine a kid losing his father so young, and in such a brutal way—right in front of him.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

Eden readjusted Micah on her lap so he'd be more comfortable. He didn't even stir. They'd gone to bed late last night and gotten
up early to stake out a spot for the parade. That combined with the trauma must have just tuckered her little guy out.

“Is he behind bars?” Beau asked. “The guy who shot your husband?”

Her eyes flashed off his. She'd never seen the man in person, but she was sure Jack would never forget his face. And they'd never be safe until he was behind bars.

“No.” She heard the defeat in her voice. Though she prayed he would be soon.

“That must be doubly hard after what happened with your mom.”

Her eyes cut to his. She couldn't believe he'd put that together in the space of a breath. It had taken her weeks to understand why she'd been so determined to see Antonio's death avenged. Why she was so torn about running with Micah even though Fattore might get off scot-free without his testimony.

“I hate it. I hate that he might get away with it.”

“Did Jack see him?”

“Yes.”

“Did they do a drawing?”

She glanced down at Micah. “I don't want to talk about this right now.” She felt a prick of guilt for using her son as a shield.

“He's sound asleep. Are you in danger, Kate? Is someone after Jack because of what he saw?”

She pressed her lips together. Her feet itched to run from the sanctuary, but what good would that do? She'd have to face him sometime.

“If you're in danger, then so is my family. I deserve to know the truth. I'm not going to fire you. I just want to help. Sheriff Colton and I can—”

“
No
.”

His brows knotted. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“You can't tell anyone anything. Please.” She'd already said too much.
You're so stupid.

“Don't you trust me?”

She gave a hollow laugh. “Why would I? I hardly know you.”

“I think you know me well enough to trust me.”

“I can't trust anyone!”

He frowned. “That's not true.”

She closed her eyes, shook her head. Her heart was beating a million miles per hour. “You don't know what we've been through.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can't do that without jeopardizing our safety!” Her voice echoed through the room.

She tried to slow her breathing, calm herself down before she said something careless. Her arms tightened protectively around Micah.

“Kate—Is that even your real name?”

The walls were closing in. The room that had felt so peaceful before felt like a prison cell now. Maybe they should leave town. Her car was fixed. They'd leave in the middle of the night.

“He said something.”

Her gaze drifted to Beau, not quite hearing his words, already making plans for their departure.

“Jack . . .,” Beau said. “He spoke earlier after the car backfired.”

“What?” She searched his eyes, fully alert now. “What did he say?”

Beau gave a tight smile. “He said, ‘Daddy.' ”

Eden's breath left her body. Her poor baby. Her eyes stung, and her chest felt so tight she couldn't breathe. He must miss him so much. Maybe Antonio had been a terrible husband, but he'd been a good father.

Hearing the car backfire had unlocked the word from Micah's heart. But he'd spoken. That was good, wasn't it?

“How long has it been?”

She shook her head. “Months.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“We did that for a while until we—” Her eyes flitted off him. “Until we had to leave. I'll get him back in again when we settle. Or maybe he'll start talking again on his own.”

Although, who was she kidding? He'd need years of therapy to deal with the violent scene he'd witnessed. She'd do whatever it took to get her happy little boy back.

“Let me help you.”

“Stay out of it, Beau. If you want to fire me, then do it. If not, then leave it alone.”

She looked into eyes as dark as coal in the shadows of the sanctuary. But they were filled with compassion. She remembered the way her son had clung to Beau as he'd rushed toward her. Remembered the way Beau's hand had cradled his head.

Her son had sought safety in his arms. Had trusted Beau with his first word in months. His response to the noise had shown he was a long way from healing. But this place, these people, were good for him. And they were as safe here as anywhere. As long as Beau didn't go poking around and alert someone to their location.

They would stay. Just a few more weeks, because that was the best thing for Micah. She looked into Beau's warm eyes. They tugged at something deep inside her. As much as she'd fought him, as much as she'd tried to build a wall around herself, her feelings had crossed over some invisible line.

“I want you to stay,” he said.

The low hum of his voice made her pulse race, her heart
squeeze. The tenderness on his face cut right through her. No one had looked at her that way in such a long time. She instantly remembered the feel of his lips on her cheek. The warmth of his breath. The flare of longing in his eyes.

“Please,” he added, calling her attention back to the present.

The moment pulsed between them, an electric thread connecting them.

“Okay.” She struggled to ignore the attraction humming between them. There was no future here. Not with Beau, and not in Summer Harbor. Staying might be the best thing for her son, but Eden wondered if it might end up being her own undoing.

Chapter 18

B
eau pushed open the chapel door, letting Kate through. He blinked against the brightness. The parade had ended, and the crowd had disbanded. He nodded at neighbors as they fell into the foot traffic on the sidewalk.

Kate adjusted Jack's weight. “I hate to be a bother, but could we get a lift back to the house? I'd like to let him sleep a little longer, but he's too heavy to carry.”