Finders Keepers

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Finders Keepers
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Books by Fern Michaels. . .
KENTUCKY RICH
KENTUCKY HEAT
KENTUCKY SUNRISE
PLAIN JANE
CHARMING LILY
WHAT YOU WISH FOR
THE GUEST LIST
LISTEN TO YOUR HEART
CELEBRATION
YESTERDAY
FINDERS KEEPERS
ANNIE'S RAINBOW
SARA'S SONG
VEGAS SUNRISE
VEGAS HEAT
VEGAS RICH
WHITEFIRE
WISH LIST
DEAR EMILY
FERN MICHAELS
 
 
FINDERS KEEPERS
 
 
Zebra Books
Kensington Publishing Corp.
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Prologue
Atlanta,
Georgia: 1957
 
Barnes Roland looked around the elegantly appointed medical office, then at the man in the white coat sitting behind the polished desk. He felt guilty and disoriented and wasn't sure why. He had been friends with Sloan since they were five years old.
Totally ignoring his wife sitting across from him, he concentrated instead on trying to understand the anger in Sloan's eyes. Anger directed at him. Never at Thea because, way back when, Sloan Simpson had been in love with her. Well, the best man had won, and the South's most powerful merger of cotton and tobacco had been forged with their union.
“For God's sake, Sloan, just write a prescription so we can get out of here. What's the big deal?”
“The big deal, Barnes, is your wife. When was the last time you
looked
at her? When was the last time you paid attention to her? She's been through hell. By herself, I might add. You wouldn't be here now if she hadn't collapsed. I suggest we put Thea into the hospital and run some tests. My God, man, she can't weigh more than ninety pounds. I trusted you to bring her for her checkups on the schedule we worked out and that you agreed to.”
Barnes's hands flapped in the air as he grappled with his friend's words. “Look, what was I supposed to do? She locks herself in her room and cries all day long. She even cries in her sleep. I believed you when you said our daughter's death was not my fault, but I am still consumed with guilt. That is never going to go away. Every day, every chance she gets, Thea tells me it was my fault. Do you have any idea what that's like? I can't force her to eat. I can't force her to bathe and get out in the fresh air. I gave up. Millions of women miscarry, and millions of women lose a child. They don't go off the deep end.” He paused, then went on, his voice barely above a whisper, “Sloan, I can't take it anymore.”
“Thea needs psychiatric help. I don't want to hear any of that crap about your position in Atlanta society either. Half the women in this town go to psychiatrists. In my opinion you could use a little help yourself. I know all about your lifestyle, my friend. You clip coupons by the bushel, you drink your breakfast, you play a round of golf, then you drink your lunch, take a nap, wake up, drink some more, then it's time for dinner and more drinks. One of the stewards from the club drives you home around midnight and pours you into bed. Read my lips, Barnes, I'm blaming you for your wife's condition. I am not nor have I ever blamed you for your daughter's death.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I told you to look at your wife. Now, do it and tell me what you see.”
Both men stared at Thea Roland.
The object of their scrutiny spoke. “Stop talking about me like I'm not here. I want a cigarette and a drink.”
“You don't smoke or drink, Thea.” Barnes's voice was strangled-sounding.
“How do you know what I do and don't do?” To prove her point, Thea pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a flashy gold Dunhill lighter. A matching gold flask appeared in her hand as if by magic. She took a long pull and smacked her lips, after which she blew a spectacular smoke ring. “I'm a drunk like you, Barnes. The only difference is I do it in the privacy of my room. It's the only way I can get through the days. I'm never going to have a child, Barnes. I've had three miscarriages, two stillborn children, and then, when God finally blessed me with a baby girl, He decided I wasn't worthy enough and took her away. I'm empty. There's nothing left. Do you think I don't know how I look? I do. I simply don't care anymore. If I had the guts, I'd commit suicide to be with my little girl. Maybe someday I'll wake up and I will have the guts and I'll do it. I want to go home now. I collapsed because I hadn't eaten. I'll take some vitamins and do some gardening. That was your prescription, wasn't it, Barnes? Or was it yours, Sloan?”
Sloan Simpson rubbed at his temples, his eyes burning. Didn't these people know how precious life was? “Perhaps a trip to the mountains, Thea. A change of scenery, cooler air. It's oppressive here in Atlanta right now. I recommend the Smoky Mountains. I have a cabin there you can use. It's rustic, but it serves the purpose. Will you consider it?”
“Here, there, wherever. Does it matter?” Thea said.
“Think of it as a challenge, Barnes. Leave your scissors and coupons behind. No liquor and no cigarettes. Go fishing and eat the fish.”
“If I don't take your little trip, are you going to have me committed?” Thea asked.
Sloan ignored the question.
Thea drained the gold flask, her eyes sparking momentarily. “All right. We'll go tomorrow. Then I want to move, Barnes. After the trip, I want to move someplace else. I wanted to move after my little girl died, but you said no, we were born in Atlanta and we would die there. That's what you said, Barnes. We'll both die in that damn three-hundred-year-old relic we call a home.”
“We'll talk about that later, Thea. Our lives are here.”
“Your life is here. I don't have one. I'll go without you. I'll expect an equitable distribution of funds if you don't join me. I'm sorry to be putting you through this, Sloan. You've been a good friend as well as a good doctor. She would have been three years old today, Sloan. Barnes forgot.” Thea's voice took on a singsong quality. “I can still see her when I close my eyes. I can hear her tinkling laugh when it's quiet. In my dreams I call out to her, but she doesn't answer me. She's gone, and I can't ever get her back.”
“Thea . . .”
“I don't want to hear it, Barnes. You didn't even remember today was her birthday. I bet you know to the penny what the price of tobacco and cotton were yesterday and the day before yesterday and all the days before those two days. It wouldn't surprise me to know you have the numbers for the entire year swirling around inside your head.”
“Thea . . .”
“Go to hell, Barnes.”
Only Sloan Simpson heard Barnes Roland say, “I'm already there.”
 
“We've been riding for hours, Thea, and you haven't said a word. I'm very concerned about you and your health. I want you to listen to me very carefully. What you said back in Sloan's office yesterday wasn't true. I cared as much as you did. I did feel guilty, and you rammed that guilt down my throat every day of our lives. Part of me will always feel guilty, but there was nothing I could do. Our daughter simply stopped breathing. I wanted an autopsy, and you didn't. It might have brought a small measure of closure to our tragedy. You shut me out. I tried, Thea. A day doesn't go by that I don't think about her. But Sloan was right—we have to get our lives back. We could adopt a child, Thea. Two children if you want, a boy and a girl. I want us to get on with our lives . . . together. If you want to move, I'll move. I'll do whatever you want. I just want us to do it together.”
Thea pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Turn the air-conditioning down, Barnes. Perhaps it will be better tomorrow. I meant it, though, when I said I wanted to move. If you see a filling station or store, will you stop? I'd like a cold drink.”
“It's late, almost six o'clock. We should be thinking about dinner. Look, there's a service station. I can see the cooler from here. What flavor do you want?”
“Cream soda would be nice.” Thea slouched lower in her seat as she hugged her chest with her thin arms.
She saw her then, a golden-haired child sleeping in her stroller, a yellow dog at her side. Thea moved faster than she'd ever moved in her life. She was out of the car and around the gas pump, the shawl flapping against her arms as she bent down to lift the child. The dog growled deep in his throat as Thea raced back to the car, the child's red sweater dangling from her shoulders.
His gaze riveted on his wife, the engine still idling, Barnes floored the gas pedal the moment he saw Thea throw her shawl over the child's head and leap in the car. The child's screams ripped at his insides. Sweat dripped down his face as he careened away from the gas station. In the rearview mirror he saw the yellow dog break his rope to race after the car.
It was all he could do to keep his hands on the wheel as they barreled down the mountain. More sweat dripped into his eyes, making it impossible to see the road. He swiped at his eyes so he could look into his rearview mirror. In the distance he could see the yellow dog racing down the road.
Her voice hysterical and out of control, Thea shouted, “I found her! I found her! She's mine! Finders keepers, Barnes.
FINDERS KEEPERS!”

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