If You Ever Tell (39 page)

Daddy.

Celeste finally felt the press of tears behind her eyes, but she forced them down. She had to watch where she was going, where she was stepping. The moon and stars seemed to have abandoned this particular night when the only light came from the occasional flare of one of those illegal fireworks. Celeste knew she could
not
trip and maybe twist an ankle. She had to move as fast as possible but also with extreme caution. Grandma always said Celeste had to be
careful.
She’d said it so many times, Celeste had wanted to scream during her years of silence. Now Grandma would never tell her to be careful again. Once more, the tears pressed. Once more, Celeste fought them. Not now, she told herself. Tears could come later, when there was time.

At least, Celeste hoped there would be time for tears.

“Gabe?”

“Carmen.”

“Gabe, you said you’d call me. I’ve waited for two hours. Did you find Sharon?”

Gabriel sat down on his old, worn recliner, holding a can of beer in one hand and the phone receiver in the other. He felt hot and cold at the same time. He also felt overwhelmingly tired while at the same time thinking he’d never be able to sleep again—at least not unless he simply collapsed from either relief or sorrow.

“No. Kent sent Daniel home with Teri and he’s still driving around looking for Sharon. He suggested that she might come to my house—her old home—so he told me to wait here for a while. I don’t think she’ll come here, but I’ll wait a few more minutes. That’s all I can stand. I
have
to go back out again and look for my girl.”

“Oh, Gabe, I’m so sorry. You sound exhausted.”

“I am.”

“Then you shouldn’t go out again now. Please stay home and rest,” Carmen pleaded.

Gabriel felt a rush of irritation. Did Carmen think his getting enough sleep was more important than finding Sharon? Could Carmen possibly believe
anything
was more important to him than finding his daughter?

“Carmen, I can’t rest until I locate Sharon,” he said with strained patience. “I’m not going to collapse from losing sleep for one night. I’m not a doddering old man, you know.”

“Of course you aren’t! I didn’t mean to imply—” Carmen started over, “I’m so sorry for how Sharon took our news.”

“We didn’t think she’d be happy about it.”

“Not being happy and throwing a screaming fit are hardly the same,” Carmen said tartly. Gabriel could almost see her eyelids flutter the way they did when she thought her natural outspokenness had taken her too far. “I mean, Sharon was so overwrought. I knew she wouldn’t be happy, but I didn’t expect her to be—”

“Out of control. Wild. A lunatic,” Gabe snapped. “I know what you think of Sharon!”

“Gabe, I—”

“You’ve never liked Sharon,” Gabriel rushed on. “You think she’s a spoiled brat, or now, even worse. You probably think she’s some kind of mental case like your good friend Marielle Farr!”

“What made you believe I think she’s like Teri’s mother?”

Because of the way she acted tonight, Gabe thought. Because she hasn’t acted quite right for a few months. Because something
is
wrong with her.

But Gabe would not say any of this to Carmen. It was one thing to admit it to himself. It was quite another to admit it to an outsider.
Outsider?
The word drew him up short. He was supposed to marry Carmen in two months. Just this morning he’d told himself how very much he loved her, what a wonderful woman she was, how he couldn’t wait until he could call her “wife.” And now he was thinking of her as an outsider?

“Carmen, I have to ask you a question. What Sharon said about you and Hugh Farr—”

“Is a damned lie! She’s crazy!” Carmen snarled. Gabe could hear her sharp intake of breath. “I mean, it isn’t true and the
idea
is crazy, not Sharon.”

After a moment of silence, Gabe said, “Of course.”

“I didn’t mean to snap about what Sharon said. Clearly she believes it. Helen must have seen Hugh with someone else and mistaken her for me. But now we know why Sharon has always disliked me.”

“Yes, we do.”

Silence spun out before Carmen asked, “Will you consider resting for at least another hour and let Kent take over the search now?”

“No. I’m going back out as soon as we get off the phone. It’s my duty to find her, not Kent’s.”

“But he’s her husband—her next of kin.”

“Legally he’s her next of kin, but she’s much closer to me than
him
!”

“And that’s what you want, isn’t it?” Carmen burst out. “When she and Kent have had problems, you haven’t encouraged her to work them out with him. You’ve encouraged her to come to you, and then you’ve always taken her side, always told her she’s right, let her turn you against Kent. You told me you didn’t like him anymore.”

“You said you didn’t, either!” Gabe flared.

“I said he’d changed. No wonder. First his father was murdered and suspicion fell not only on his sister but also on him, then he had a shotgun wedding to your daughter—” Gabe stiffened, his face suffusing with red. “And finally, you’ve never turned loose of her. You fanned the fires in their marriage—the fire of anger, not of passion. I think you did that so she’d eventually leave him, and she and Daniel would come home to you!”

By now, Gabe’s annoyance had turned to fury. “That is the vilest lie I’ve ever heard! If I hadn’t heard you say it, I wouldn’t believe you
could
say it! Is this what you’ve always thought of my daughter?”

Carmen paused. He could hear her breathing heavily. He pictured her fighting for control over her emotions, for her usual self-possession—the self-possession he’d admired and loved. “Gabe, I went completely overboard a minute ago. Please forgive me. I’m concerned about Sharon, too. I’m worried—”

“You’re worried that her behavior is going to change my mind about marrying you.” Gabe felt as if he saw the whole situation clearly now. Sharon had known more than she said about Carmen, even if she’d been wrong about an affair between Carmen and Hugh. Sharon had acted so wildly tonight because she was afraid of the harm a marriage to Carmen would do to him, the father she loved so much. “I believe you said exactly how you felt, Carmen, even if you are completely wrong.”

“Gabe,
please
listen to reason,” Carmen begged desperately. “I’m just afraid her reaction will make you think twice about marrying me. I don’t mean this as an insult, but she
can
be manipulative.”

“Thank you, Dr. Norris. I thought I was the manipulative one, trying to break up her marriage so she’d come home to Daddy,” Gabe returned icily.

“Oh, Gabe, I’m sorry. I’m so upset I hardly know what I’m saying tonight. I didn’t mean to criticize either one of you—”

“But that’s what you did. And you didn’t just speak out of anger—you said what you
really
feel. After all this time, I finally know what you think. Well, listen closely, Carmen. You can say what you want about me, but I won’t have you criticizing my daughter!” Gabe looked at the small oil portrait of his dead wife, Helen, hanging on the wall—Helen, with her kind eyes and gentle smile—and he made a quick, definite decision. “Carmen, I think we should forget about this wedding for now.”

“Gabe,
no
!” Carmen cried in anguish.

“Yes,” Gabe returned coolly. “I’m afraid that’s the way things have to be until I take care of my daughter.”

But as he hung up, Gabriel O’Brien knew his wedding to Carmen wasn’t merely on hold.

It was canceled.

T
ERESA HAD BEEN SO
preoccupied with reviewing the events of the evening, she hadn’t noticed when Daniel stopped talking. She looked over at him to see his eyelids drooping as he began to sag in his chair. She glanced at the kitchen clock.

“Daniel, it’s twelve o’clock! You have to go to bed!” The child jumped, then made an effort to open his eyes wide and sit up straight on his kitchen chair. Both attempts failed.

“I’m gonna stay up all night,” Daniel said truculently. “You can’t make me go to bed.”

“Oh yes, I can.”

“Cannot, cannot.” Daniel’s eyelids were beginning to droop again. “No!”

Teresa looked at the stubborn little boy planted firmly on his chair. She was
not
going to carry him upstairs and toss him onto a bed. Then inspiration struck.

“Daniel, if you go to bed now like a good boy, I’ll let you ride Caesar tomorrow.” Teresa hated to stoop to bribery—she was quite certain all the child psychologists would frown on it—but at this point, all Teresa cared about was that the exhausted little boy get some sleep. “How about it, Daniel? You can stay up all night, or you can go to sleep and when you wake up tomorrow, take a ride on Caesar. Which will it be?”

Daniel looked at her mutinously with his tired eyes, but his love for the horse outweighed his determination to show Teri who was boss. “Well, maybe I am a little bit sleepy.” Teresa smothered a smile. The little boy wasn’t going to wilt, but he was attempting to make going to bed his decision, not her command. “I’d prob’ly ride better tomorrow if I took a nap.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“So I guess I’ll go to sleep for a little while.”

“I think you’ve made a wise decision,” Teresa said gravely. “Would you like to take your nap in the guest room or in my room?”

Daniel pretended to think this over. Finally, he asked, “Does Sierra sleep with you?”

“Yes, but there would be plenty of room for the three of us. I have a queen-sized bed.”

“Well, if Sierra’s gonna be there, I guess I’ll sleep in your bed. But it’s not ’cause I’m scared to be alone. I’d just like to sleep with Sierra. Mommy won’t let me have a dog, even though I’ve asked and asked. You won’t tell her I slept in the same bed with Sierra, will you?”

“I absolutely will not.” Teresa was sincere. She would do just about anything to make Daniel comfortable on this strange night. Besides, she didn’t think Sharon would care what sleeping arrangements she made as long as Daniel was safe.

Ten minutes later, she had Daniel tucked into her bed. She’d motioned for Sierra to jump up, too, and the dog now lay beside Daniel, who flung his little arm lovingly across the dog. Daniel’s eyes were already shut and his breathing becoming deeper and regular and she made another motion for Sierra to hold her position while Teresa tiptoed out of the room. Normally, Sierra wanted to be with her mistress at all times, but the dog was so enamored of Daniel, who never tired of giving her the ear rubs she loved so much, Sierra acquiesced and stayed with her new charge for the evening.

Teresa quietly closed the bedroom door so no noise would disturb the little boy who’d finally surrendered to sleep. She went downstairs and did what she had to do—

Pace and worry.

Mac had said he was just going to drop off his mother, then come to her house. “So where is he?” Teresa asked no one. Was Emma sick? Had it been necessary for him to stay with his mother? He would have called to tell me, Teresa thought.

Unless he’d been in a car wreck. Unless he were in an ambulance or even the hospital, maybe unconscious, maybe
dying.
Teresa’s heart pounded as she rushed to the phone. Gory, tragic scenes flashed in her mind—Mac lying bloody and battered, perhaps mumbling her name, perhaps already drawing his last breath without her by his side, holding his hand, telling him again as she had last night that she loved him, that she’d never stopped loving him.

He’d given her his cell phone number last night and she’d already memorized it. Teresa dialed frantically. The phone rang twice and then sent her directly to voice mail. She’d left a message—somewhat garbled, laced with irritation and a couple of expletives simply because she’d frightened herself so badly—then the allotted time for her message abruptly ended.

Mac couldn’t be deliberately dodging her, she thought. Not after last night. Not after promising not to desert her during what he’d thought was going to be an edgy, potentially disastrous engagement announcement at her house. He’d left before the scene downtown, before Sharon had stormed away. He didn’t even know she was missing.

Teresa knew calling the club would be useless. She called his apartment and got his answering machine. Then, as a last resort, she’d looked up Emma’s phone number and called her apartment. Nothing. Not even an answering machine. And Emma had supposedly wanted to go home because she didn’t feel well. At least that’s what Mac had told Teresa.

“And if it’s what he told me, it’s true,” Teresa told herself severely. The only reason he might possibly want to lie to her was that he didn’t want to attend the “party” at Teri’s house, but Mac would have simply refused to come. He would have been nice, he would have been apologetic, but he would have refused. He wouldn’t have just left her hanging, wondering where he could be after midnight when he was supposed to be with her.

Returning to her original scenario of the car wreck, Teresa called the emergency room at the hospital. Someone answered, then immediately put her on hold. She held. And held. And held until she had an urge to toss the receiver through her picture window. She knew the emergency room was always busy on the night of the Fourth of July—too many untrained people tried to set off their own fireworks and ended up being burned or even losing a finger. Worse. She remembered a boy she’d gone to high school with setting off a firecracker incorrectly and suffering third-degree burns to most of his face. He’d been such a handsome guy. Now people told her he was a complete recluse.

Teresa shook her head as if trying to shake free of the terrible image. She hadn’t thought about that poor guy for years. But of course she had to remember him tonight, she thought with irrational resentment—a night when she was worried sick that Mac and Emma might be lying in a car being eaten away by voracious flames and excruciating heat.

Teresa decided she would try the hospital again in a few minutes. In the meantime, she’d see if Kent had found Sharon. She dialed his cell phone number and Kent nearly yelled, “Sharon! Where are you?”

“It’s Teri, not Sharon, which you would have known if you’d looked at your Caller ID. But I can tell that you haven’t found her.”