Sweet Child of Mine (14 page)

“What about National Guard troops?”

He frowned. “That would only incite more panic. Right now the water’s testing all right and plenty of water’s being trucked in, but we’re planning for emergency evacuation if the DMBE starts to show up. That hasn’t changed, but we can’t breathe easy until those missing barrels are found—and until the FBI figures out who’s responsible. I don’t want you and Bobby in the middle of this.”

“Michael, I can’t go off and leave you—” She broke off as quick awareness flared in his gaze. Leaving him was exactly what she intended to do one day soon.

“Go see Jim and take care of your son, Suzanne. Don’t let Edna get her hooks into the situation. I’ll call you later, once I get past the press conference
that starts in an hour. If I can get away, I’ll come over tonight, but if not, I’ll be in touch.” He wrote a number on a piece of paper, then handed it to her. “Take my cell phone number, in case you need me.”

She studied him carefully, seeing the lines of strain on his face. A lot of people looked to him to keep things calm and settled, and he couldn’t even find peace in his own home, thanks to her. She needed to go to Bobby, but she had to say this first. Drawing a deep breath, she looked him straight in the eyes. “Michael, I didn’t know how hard this would be for you, or I would never have agreed. I can take my chances with Edna if you’d rather we stopped this charade right now.”

His eyes studied her solemnly. “I’m not letting you down. I gave my word.”

“I can’t tell how difficult it’s going to get. You didn’t bargain on all of this. I was naive when I thought this could be done.”

He shook his head, his jaw resolute. “We said we’d do our best to honor the vows we took while we were together. I think ‘for better or for worse’ was included.”

He was such a decent man. A man a woman could love so very easily. Her heart cried out for his.

But his heart was not available. Only his protection was.

And she didn’t have the luxury of turning it down. Edna’s voice had been full of menace, full of certainty
that Suzanne would come up short. Maybe she was far from certain herself that she would be the perfect mother, but all Suzanne had to do was remember the light in Bobby’s eyes when he was at Michael’s place, to hear the hard, cold tone of Cousin Edna, to know that Bobby’s spirit would die with that woman, no matter how well Edna cared for his physical well-being.

Maybe Suzanne wasn’t the perfect mother yet, but she loved Bobby, body and soul. She’d told a hundred parents that the root of a child’s well-being lay in love, fierce, consuming love. She had that and more.

She reached out to Michael and laid her hand on his chest, over his heart. With everything that was in her, she spoke. “You are a very good man, Michael. The best. I pray to the heavens that I’m not doing you harm when I say thank you from the bottom of my heart. For my son and for myself, I want you to know that I’m very, very sorry for anything we do that hurts you. I’m going to be selfish for Bobby’s sake and keep this charade going, but I want you to have my pledge that I will end it as soon as humanly possible. And I will be forever in your debt.”

Pain washed over his face, and she’d never seen him more solemn than when he placed his large hand over hers. “I don’t want you in my debt, Suzanne. You owe me nothing. If I can help you keep your child, maybe it will make up, in some small measure, for what I cost Elaine.”

She could feel the grief inside him, the dark sorrow that festered there. She wished for the power to reach down into his heart and heal the wounds that haunted him still.

But he would not let her—he’d made that clear. His pain was his own, and jealously guarded. He paid homage to a dead woman, and Suzanne could not break that bond, no matter how she wished it. She wanted to believe that given enough time together, free of distractions, she could change that.

But they did not have time, nor freedom. Prosperino needed Michael, and Bobby needed her. So they would part.

She rose to her toes and kissed his cheek, fighting back the deep ache of sorrow. “You deserve better, Michael Longstreet. I wish I could make you see that.”

Then, before she broke down, she turned and left, clutching the scrap of paper in her hand.

A
s he walked downstairs, yawning, Michael couldn’t remember the last time he slept for more than two hours. Suzanne had been staying with Bobby for a week now, and it seemed like a year. The house felt twice as empty as it had before she’d moved in.

And it would be emptier still when she left. Her laughter, her ability to find joy so easily—they would be gone. He would miss her bright mind, her fiery spirit more than he could have ever imagined. They were opposites in so many ways, but she charged the atmosphere simply by being around.

He glanced at the profusion of plants in the breakfast area, frowning as he noticed that a couple were
drooping. As much as Suzanne cherished them, he’d better not let them die. Rubbing one hand over the top of his head, he yawned again. First he’d start the coffee, then he’d water the plants.

A little while later, plants watered and a full mug in hand, he stared out at the mountain vista he’d loved so much, but he saw no trees or slopes. Instead, he thought about Suzanne. And Bobby. He wondered how Jim Roper had passed the night.

And he remembered a terror of years long ago, of whispered conversations his mother had on the phone while trying to maintain the pose that everything was fine, that the father who was in a hospital he couldn’t visit would come home one day soon and be just the way Michael remembered him.

Deep inside him, Michael could still recall how it felt to try to play along with his mother while terror gnawed at his insides. She couldn’t hide her fear, and Michael had wished she would tell him the truth almost as much as he’d prayed she would not. It was clear to him, even at twelve, that he might never see his father again. In the middle of the night, he would kneel beside his bed and pray to a somewhat hazy concept of God to bring his father back, to make his mother smile again.

The small boy inside Michael reached out to the boy who was Suzanne’s child, wishing he could turn away the far more terrible knowledge Bobby pos
sessed. The boy was brave and stalwart. He was a boy any man would be proud to call son.

No. Even thinking that was a betrayal of the tiny baby boy who had never drawn one breath of air, who had never had a chance because Michael Longstreet had failed him. Michael’s actions had led to the death of the only son he would ever have. To the death of the only woman he would ever love. She’d told him the brakes concerned her, but he hadn’t checked them that day, too harried by school and his job, trying to show his parents that he could be a success without them. He’d refused to reconcile with them out of pride, and Elaine had suffered poverty along with him, when he could have made her life so easy, so fine.

They’d had an argument just before she left that day because he’d caught her placing a call to his parents and he could never take the harsh words back. Mother and child had perished together in the crash, and he’d sworn a vow over her grave that he would never replace her or their child, that he would spend his life making it count. The only alternative had been to end it, to let the endless, gnawing grief eat away at him until he took the ultimate step.

But that would have dishonored two lives that Michael had loved, if imperfectly. If with monumental failure.

If he could have loved a woman again, Suzanne would have been the one. If he could have taken a
boy to his heart, Bobby would be that boy. But he’d promised Elaine and their child, lying together for eternity, that he would love no one else. He’d failed them in the worst possible way in life; he could not fail them in death.

And knowing that, the only thing left to do was to hold himself apart from Bobby and Suzanne and make it as easy for them to leave as possible, even if he spent the rest of his life feeling the emptiness that lay around him now.

The phone rang, and Michael picked it up. “Hello?”

“Michael?”

He could hear the tears in her voice. “What’s wrong, Suzanne?”

“It’s Jim. He’s…gone, Michael. And Bobby—” Her voice broke. “He’s—”

“I’ll be there in an hour.” He was already mentally composing a list of calls he had to make. “Hold on, Suzanne. I’ll be with you soon.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You don’t have to, but—” Tears crowded her voice.

“Just hold on, sweetheart. I won’t be long.”

“Thank you, Michael.” She paused as if she wanted to say more.

And God help him, he wanted to hear it.

But he’d made a promise to a woman and a boy who could not release him.

It had been a very long week, and Suzanne was so tired her bones ached. She’d been strong for Bobby. She’d been strong for Jim. She’d even weathered Cousin Edna’s disapproval and attempts to take Bobby home with her. Thank goodness Jim had been lucid enough for brief moments to change his will. Still, Edna watched her like a hawk.

It hadn’t been until she’d heard Michael’s voice on the phone that the temptation to break down had almost overwhelmed her. He’d sounded so strong and sure and had so quickly taken decisive steps that for a moment, her strength had wavered under the onslaught of her need to let him take over.

But she couldn’t do that. That luxury was not hers. Bobby was her child, and he was reeling from the blow that all his hopes, all his prayers had not kept him from losing his father. So he could be her only concern.

At almost ten, he was too big for her lap, but she snuggled him close on the sofa, the cool wind washing over them through the open screen door, and he didn’t seek to leave her side. If anything, he leaned into her more as he read to her from the book she’d selected as a diversion.

Suddenly he stopped. “Michael’s coming soon?” In his blue eyes, so fragile with grief, she saw hope shining.

That hope would have to die one day, but not this day. It was not yet time to leave Michael. “Yes.”
She nodded. “He said he’d be here in an hour and it’s almost been that long.”

“But he can’t stay? Because he’s the mayor?”

She’d tried to explain that a lot of other people needed him and that was why he couldn’t come before, even though he called every day to talk to them both. “That’s right, sweetie. Michael’s taking care of the water problems, but some people don’t understand the situation and they’re scared, so Michael has to keep them calm.”

“Hmmph—” Edna Waters walked into the room, drying her hands on a dish towel. “One more reason for Bobby to stay with us. Bad water. People will get sick.”

Suzanne felt Bobby stiffen beside her. She knew he didn’t want to go with Edna. He’d told her so more than once. “The situation is under control. No one’s gotten sick yet. And no one will. Michael’s had water trucked in ever since this started.”

“If he were any kind of mayor, he’d evacuate the town instead of playing God with people’s lives.”

Bobby spoke up. “Michael’s not like that. He cares about people and animals. He won’t let anyone get—”

A deep voice intervened from the porch. “I’m certainly trying to keep that from happening.”

“Michael!” Bobby was off the sofa in a shot, charging through the open door and into Michael’s arms.

Suzanne watched as the big man wrapped his arms around her son and held him close. She saw Michael’s eyes close over a dark, aching sorrow, and she heard Bobby’s sobs begin, the sobs he hadn’t let anyone else hear.

Michael opened his eyes for a moment and looked at her. He nodded his head toward the porch swing, waiting for approval.

She nodded, and Michael strode out of sight carrying her son, but she could hear his deep voice speaking in a calm, soothing tone.

She was happy for Bobby; she would have liked to be tucked against Michael herself.

“He hardly knows that man,” Edna said. “But I’m glad the boy has him. He’ll need someone to give him the guidance Jim can’t.”

Suzanne was surprised by the conciliatory tone. “Michael’s a good man.” She couldn’t let herself think about the price of walking away. Maybe, just maybe, this would bring them closer. Maybe Bobby could do what she couldn’t and bring Michael out of his own grief.

Once again that tiny seed of hope stirred, never mind that it had been crushed to powder more than once.

Edna moved closer to the window. “Come here.” Her voice was softer than Suzanne had ever heard it. “Look at this.”

Suzanne moved to the side of this woman who
wielded too much power for her to ever rest easy. She looked out the window.

Bobby was cradled in Michael’s lap, falling asleep as tears dried on his cheeks. Michael rocked him, slowly and softly, staring out into the distance, his face naked with pain.

Edna wiped her hands again, then pinned Suzanne with a stare. “That man’s the best thing you got going for you. I see this, and I know Bobby’s in good hands.”

Suzanne’s feathers ruffled. She was a good mother. Michael shouldn’t matter.

But he did, and she would take any edge she could get. If Edna liked Michael’s effect on Bobby, then Suzanne would remain quiet and work steadily to secure custody of her son before Edna could know that Michael never intended to be Bobby’s true father.

“He is in good hands,” Suzanne said, trying to stifle the shaft of fear that swept through her as she thought of how painful it would be to leave the man who held her son so tenderly, no matter how easy he tried to make the separation.

And she knew deep inside that the longing that gripped her was not only for the sake of her son’s heart, but also for her own.

Two days later, back in Michael’s house, Suzanne watched as Michael settled Bobby back against his pillow and tenderly adjusted the covers over the boy
who’d finally fallen asleep after crying so hard she’d been sick with worry.

Bobby had been too quiet, even through the funeral. She’d tried to get him to talk about his feelings, but he’d insisted he was fine, no matter that she could see the pain spilling out around the edges of his unnatural control.

He’d let her hold him close and he’d seemed to draw comfort from it, but there was a stillness about him that worried her all through the packing and loading up to take him home to Prosperino.

He’d barely touched his dinner and even Maverick could not seem to move him. It was as though he knew that the slightest crack would break him.

Until he’d climbed into bed and accepted her kisses and even then, he’d held himself still. Too still. He’d asked for Michael and something Michael said had finally released the tears. Bobby had cried for a long time in Michael’s arms, and she’d stood by, feeling helpless.

Michael leaned over and placed one tender kiss on Bobby’s forehead. Then he stood and turned away from her, his shoulders sagging. The one quick glimpse of his face worried her almost as much as she was concerned about her son. But Michael brushed past her and headed quickly down the stairs.

She didn’t know what to do for him, didn’t know how far to probe. So instead, she gave him his privacy and remained with her son, holding his small hand
and studying his face. Please, she begged. Please let me be enough for him. Let me shield him from further hurt.

After long moments passed and Bobby still slept soundly, exhausted from his tears, she turned her thoughts to Michael, worrying about him, too. Gently she released the small fingers that had fallen slack in hers. She rose and gave Maverick a slow pat where he lay curled up beside his beloved master. “Watch over him,” she whispered, “while I check on Michael.”

She closed the door quietly and went downstairs, searching everywhere for Michael but finding him nowhere. Finally, she moved to the breakfast room door and saw him sitting outside in the darkness, moonlight gilding his strong frame. He sat on the bench of the picnic table, looking out over the moonlit vista, elbows propped on his knees, chin resting on his clasped hands.

She couldn’t decide whether to go to him or leave him alone. He looked so weary. So alone. She realized that he would never ask for comfort, even if he needed it. He’d been a tower of strength for both her and Bobby these last difficult days. He was a tower of strength for his town and his parents, always ready to help whoever needed him.

But who helped Michael? Who let him lean, even for a few precious moments?

No one, she knew instantly. She couldn’t think of
a single time she’d ever seen him lean on another soul. He was the tall oak, the mighty sequoia who supported everyone else. He’d been going full-speed for days now, even weeks, as the water crisis kept everyone off balance—and then she and Bobby had complicated the picture.

Even a man as strong as Michael could use a friend, surely. He may not have been willing to let her in further, but he had never tried to stop her from being his friend. If her heart ached for more, that was her problem—but she would not withhold her friendship simply because he wanted no more.

So Suzanne took a deep breath, opened the door to the deck and stepped outside. Fingers fidgeting at her skirt, she crossed toward him. “Michael?”

His shoulders lifted in a weary sigh, but he kept his head averted. “Is it Bobby? Do you need me?”

Yes, she wanted to shout. I need you. Bobby needs you. But he didn’t want that. “No,” she said softly. “I was worried about you.”

His head shook negligently. “I’m fine.” But his voice was rougher than usual.

She took a few steps around to his side. “I wanted to thank you. Bobby needed to cry, but he just couldn’t seem to let go. I don’t know what you said to him, but whatever it was, he needed to hear it. He’ll never heal if he doesn’t grieve, and he’s been unnaturally—”

She stopped in shock. In the moonlight, she saw
the glitter of moisture in Michael’s eyes. She didn’t know whether to stay or leave.

Just as he’d said she did, she let her heart lead. With three quick steps, she was in front of him. “What is it, Michael?”

Brusquely he shook his head and turned away. His voice was harsh. “Nothing.” Then with effort, he softened it. “Just go inside, Suzanne. Please. Give me a minute.”

Part of her wanted to obey him, didn’t want to embarrass him. But part of her heard the anguish beneath his command.

He looked so alone.

She couldn’t leave him. She reached out a trembling hand and stroked his hair. She felt his powerful frame vibrate, but she didn’t stop. “Talk to me, Michael. Let me be your friend.”