The Black Sheep's Redemption (3 page)

Her chin jutted out. “Of course. Nobody was here. I’m just being jumpy after what happened at your house.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’d better head home. I’m sure Keira is tired from working all day and is ready to spend some time in her own house.”

Charles rubbed his chin, wanting to protest. But he knew she was right. Again. “Okay.” He walked to the door then turned. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.” He found himself fidgeting with the doorknob and forced his hands to his side. “I know it’s your day off, but…ah…how would you feel about spending it with me and the kids?” He wanted to spend more time with her. Getting to know her better was at the top of his priority list. At first he tried to tell himself it was because of the kids, but if he was honest, he’d admit he wanted to get to know her better…for himself.

Demi swallowed. Hard. Excitement swirled in the pit of her stomach even as she wondered if spending the day with her boss—her very attractive boss—was a wise thing to do.

Probably not.

“Sure,” she said. “I’d love that.”

His shoulders relaxed and when he smiled, his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “Great. I’ll let Brianne and Aaron know. They’ll be thrilled.”

What about you?
she wanted to ask. But bit her lip in time to keep the words from spilling out.

“Nine o’clock?” he asked.

“I’ll be ready.”

She shut the door behind him and made sure the lock clicked. She would definitely be ready to spend the day with them, but wondered if she would get any sleep at all.

Looking around, seeing nothing out of place, she wondered what she was missing.

Because no matter what she had said to the contrary, she felt sure someone had been in her apartment.

FOUR

S
aturday morning dawned a little overcast, but no rain fell yet. The thought of the day to come sent a twinge of excitement through Demi, spurring her to toss back the covers and pad toward the bathroom. She had something to do today besides sit in her apartment spilling her guts to Chloe and bemoaning the fact that her memory hadn’t returned yet.

Self-pity was no fun. It was time to start making plans for the future, start to live again and try to either get her memory back or accept that it was gone for good and move on.

Of course she wanted her memory back, but if that wasn’t meant to be, she was determined not to let the amnesia negatively affect the rest of her life.

At least that was the pep talk for this morning. Tonight, when she was all alone once again, she would have to figure out how to keep the despair and frustration at bay.

Briefly, she thought about the Bible she’d seen on the shelf in the bookstore. Maybe she should turn to God for comfort. Making a mental note to think about that, she went into the kitchen for her morning cup of coffee.

And realized she didn’t smell it.

Another thing she’d discovered since getting out of the hospital was that she loved coffee. Any kind, flavored, black, with cream. It didn’t matter.

The last thing she did before bed was set the timer on the coffeemaker Fiona had given her as a housewarming gift.

Only she’d been so distracted last night, she’d forgotten to set the timer.

She filled the carafe then opened the cabinet to pull out the canister of coffee.

When she pulled off the top, she gaped.

A piece of paper sat on top of the ground coffee.

Wariness flooded her. How did this get in her coffee can? Reaching in, she pulled it out and read,
Stay away from Charles Fitzgerald. You don’t belong here.

Knees suddenly week, she dropped the paper back into the can, slapped on the top and gasped, her lungs deflated.

Flashes of a hard fist. Shouted angry words. Pain in her head.

She cried out and sank to the floor, hands gripping her hair. Her head throbbed, but she forced herself to think, to remember.

“No!” The word echoed, the pain in her head intensified and tears slipped down her cheeks. Heart thudding, head pounding, she whispered, “Please, stop. Stop.”

For the next few minutes she sat there and emptied her mind of every thought. She couldn’t force it. And she had to pull herself together for Charles and the children.

Twenty minutes later, a fine tremor still shook her, but she took a look in the mirror as she ran a brush through her hair. The excited anticipation of the day had waned because of the message still in her coffee can—and the disturbing flashes that resonated in the corners of her mind.

But the thing holding her together was the thought of being with Charles and the children.

That gnawing in the pit of her stomach agitated her as she realized she’d been right. Her instincts had been dead-on when she thought someone had been in the apartment yesterday.

But who?

And what should she do with the odd—and scary—message? Was it from someone who was warning her away from Charles because of what happened to Olivia? But what a weird way to do so.

Should she report it to the police? But what could they do? And why say she didn’t belong there? Why would someone go to all the trouble to sneak into her apartment and leave that in her coffee can?

The coffee can.

A strange place for a note. Why put it there?

Unless the person knew her. Knew her habits.

A chill swept through her.

The person had to know that she loved coffee. That she would be in that coffee can first thing this morning. Or soon anyway.

Or was it simply coincidence? The coffeemaker sat in plain sight on the counter. It would be a short thought to realize there would be coffee in the cabinet somewhere.

But
why?

Her head started to ache again. Determined to push the incident out of her mind until she felt ready to deal with it, she focused on the excitement she’d felt when she first woke up and remembered what she was doing for the day.

She muttered, “You really shouldn’t be so excited about spending the day with Charles and the kids. He’s your employer, nothing more.”

She flushed as she said the words out loud because she knew they were a lie.

She’d been attracted to him the minute she’d looked into those blue eyes and seen compassion—and a spark of something more as he’d questioned her during the interview for the nanny position.

Wishing she had some lip gloss or lipstick made her flush hotter and she rolled her eyes at her reflection. Shiny lips hadn’t gotten her the job. Trustworthiness and capability were the qualities Charles had been looking for, and she’d assured him that she had both. He was obviously a good father who was very careful about whom he left his children with.

As well he should be.

But today wasn’t about work even though she looked forward to caring for the children during their time together. Most of all, she wanted to get to know Charles a little better. Spending the day together would allow that.

She didn’t mind the idea one bit.

But someone else did. Someone else thought she didn’t belong here. Here in town? Here with Charles? Here in The Reading Nook?

Again, who?

Standing at the window in her bedroom, she glanced down in the small alley that ran behind her building. It was a shortcut to the other street and had a lot of traffic most days.

She’d stood in this spot many times since moving in. Just watching, wondering about the lives that passed under her window.

Today, the foot traffic was light.

A solitary figure in a hooded sweatshirt, hands tucked in the front pockets walked slowly. Then paused in front of the back door that would lead into her building. She watched him reach out, his arm moved in a twisting motion.

What was he doing?

Seeing if the door was unlocked?

Fortunately, she and Fiona kept it locked unless there was a delivery expected. Tensing, she waited to see if he could get in. Was he the one who’d broken in and left the note?

When he dropped his hand and turned to walk off, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Chloe wound herself around Demi’s left ankle, distracting her from her thoughts and unanswered questions. She picked up the cat and carried her to the bed. Setting the animal on the coverlet, she asked, “Shorts or jeans?”

Chloe commenced cleaning her left front paw.

“Right. That’s what I thought, too. Jeans it is.”

Pulling up her hair into a ponytail, Demi dressed in her thrift store jeans and a flowered top. She opened her purse and grabbed a ten-dollar bill that she stuffed into her front pocket.

She picked up the cell phone Charles had insisted she have the first day she’d reported for work and stuck that in her back pocket. Then she snatched her light jacket from the closet. Unable to bring herself to close the door, she left it cracked open.

Demi stepped out into the hall and pulled the apartment door tight behind her. She double-checked the lock, doing her best to push yesterday’s and this morning’s incidents from her mind. Shivering at the unpleasant memories, she pocketed the key and slipped into her jacket.

Once down the steps and outside, she looked around for the man who’d stopped at her building and tested the doorknob. Seeing no one, she told herself to relax.

Since she was much too early to meet Charles and the twins—and there was no way she was touching that coffee in her cabinet—Demi decided to have breakfast at the Sugar Plum Café. Excitement at seeing Charles again swirled through her. And yet she couldn’t help wonder at the reasons behind the invitation. Did he just want extra help with the twins? Or was it possible he was interested in her as a woman and a potential date? She grimaced. It would do no good to ask questions she didn’t have the answers for. “Just take it one day at a time,” she whispered.

Clouds hung low and gray, but the sun peeped out behind them so she hoped the rain would hold off long enough to enjoy the day with the Charles Fitzgerald family.

After several glances up and down the street, she crossed at the intersection, then followed the short road past the park. Splashing through a puddle left over from the night rain, she finally found herself in front of the café. The white structure with the large porch was welcoming. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Waiting for her.

But who? And why?

The man she’d seen trying to get in the building? Demi scoffed at herself. He was probably someone who wanted to go to the bookstore and thought he could take a shortcut by going in the back door.

Surely that was all it was.

But what about the note?

Still feeling a hovering sense of foreboding, Demi shivered as she stepped inside and took in the atmosphere. One of comfort and refuge with tables and chairs and couches. The display of pictures tacked to the walls was mind-boggling. Everywhere one looked, a picture smiled back.

Several patrons sat alone, working on laptops. Tempting smells made her empty stomach rumble and she headed straight for the glass-front case display. An assortment of cakes and pastries called to her. She wanted one of each, but she’d only been working for one week and her funds were still tight.

“Can I help you?”

Demi jumped and turned to see a pretty woman in her late twenties. Her brown eyes sparkled friendliness. Victoria, the owner of the Sugar Plum Café.

After checking the prices on the menu posted on the wall, Demi chose the cheapest option. “I’d love a cup of coffee, black, please.”

“Sure thing.” In a few minutes, Victoria returned and handed her the cup. “So how are things going?”

“Pretty well.”

“Charles hired you to be the children’s nanny, didn’t he?”

“I guess it’s all over town by now.”

“Indeed. I’m just glad you’re not buying into all that nonsense about Charles killing Olivia.”

“No. I’m not buying into it.”

From what Demi understood, Olivia had come to Fitzgerald Bay from Ireland three months before her murder, a stranger in town, but one who quickly made friends with Victoria and her daughter, Paige, when she’d stayed at the inn.

Curiosity lifted Victoria’s brow. “So, you work for my future brother-in-law, but I don’t really know anything about you. Do you have family around here?”

Victoria was engaged to Owen Fitzgerald, Charles’s younger brother and a detective with the police force.

“I…” What could she say?
I don’t know? I don’t remember?
Demi forced a smile as she handed over three precious dollars. “No. I’m just looking for a new start. Fitzgerald Bay seemed like the kind of place where I could find that.”

“You’re right about that. Why don’t you have a seat over there by the fire? It may be May, but it’s still chilly here first thing in the morning so I keep the fire going.”

Demi nodded. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” She started toward the comfy-looking chair by the flickering flames.

Once seated, she grabbed the abandoned newspaper on the table before her and opened it. Of course the front page story was still about Olivia Henry’s unsolved murder. The first murder in forty years in this town. But there was nothing about the incident at Charles’s house last night. She shivered and set the paper back on the table.

The fire crackled and the warmth felt lovely. Soon, she’d warmed up enough to shrug out of the light jacket one of the nurses had given her before she’d been discharged from the hospital three weeks ago.

Everything she now owned in the world had been given to her by another person. The familiar fear filled her, coming from a place she couldn’t define. She just knew it was very real. A mental picture of the note in her coffee grounds added to that feeling. Someone had been in her home. Warning her to stay away from Charles.

She couldn’t fathom it. But
who? Who?

And should she report it?

But what would she say? What could the police do about it? She continued to toy with the idea. Maybe she would tell Charles about it and see what advice he had to offer. Then again, if she told Charles, that would just add to his guilt about hiring her. What if he fired her because he thought it would keep her safe?

She shuddered. Jobs in Fitzgerald Bay were few and far between. She couldn’t afford to lose the nanny position. No, she’d just keep quiet about the note and hope Olivia’s murderer was found soon.

Demi briefly wondered if she should pray about everything. Did she even know how?

Dear God, please give me my memories back. I need to know who I am. I need to know why I’m so afraid and constantly feeling like I need to watch my back… Please….

Closing her eyes, she did her best to bring forth memories from before she woke in the hospital.

And couldn’t do it. Not even one. Just the feeling of fear whenever she tried to remember.