A Fortune's Children's Wedding (11 page)

Flynt groaned. “I can't think of two less appealing things to do tonight than having to hunt for a runaway dog in a thunderstorm or clean up after a renegade pigeon.”

“At least those stories had happy endings. Let's just pray that Mama hasn't found one of the animals dead. She lives in dread of that happening. Several of the pets she looks after are getting on in years, and she worries about them a lot.”

From what he'd observed today, Romina did not han
dle stress very well, and a dead animal was definitely work-related stress for a pet-sitter. Flynt grimaced. He found himself actually hoping they'd find a pigeon on the loose in the house on Blueberry Hollow Lane.

He sped along the interstate, passing every car that was cautiously inching along in the right lane. He noticed Angelica clenching her fists in white-knuckled anxiety.

“Relax, I'm an old hand at driving in the rain. I grew up in western Pennsylvania, which is the rain capital of the country.”

“I thought that was Seattle,” murmured Angelica, eyeing the slow, steady procession of cars they whizzed past. She knew she would've been in that long line herself, if she were behind the wheel.

“Western PA has fewer sunny days. A little-known fact because it's not exactly a selling point for the area.”

The night had taken a strange turn, yet he felt oddly lighthearted. He cast a quick glance at Angelica, seated beside him. Why bother to deny it? He was glad this wild pet chase, or whatever it turned out to be, had prolonged his time with her.

Angelica directed him to the address in a posh neighborhood of newly built, luxurious houses on spacious lots.

“Lots of professional people live here,” Angelica murmured, scanning the street signs and house numbers as Flynt steered the car through the rainy darkness. “Mama does a lot of pet-sitting for dual-career couples in this area.”

“Does she have keys to all their houses?” Flynt asked idly.

“Of course. Mama is very trustworthy.” Angelica was instantly defensive.

“I wasn't casting aspersions on Romina's character, Angelica,” Flynt said. “I was just wondering how all those prominent folks reacted when their house keys and addresses were seized by the police during one of those searches.”

“Oh.” Angelica gnawed her lower lip. “Well, they weren't seized.”

“No? It seems that a book of addresses, complete with keys, would be something to be carefully checked out, particularly considering—”

“Mama keeps that stuff at my apartment. It's not an inconvenience,” Angelica explained hastily. “I only live a few blocks from her, she has a key to my place and she picks up and drops off the keys as needed.”

“For exactly the reason I stated.” It was a statement, not a question.

Angelica looked at him. “You must've been a pretty good FBI agent,” she said with grudging admiration. “Nobody else mentioned Mama's keys and address book.”

“From there, it's a quick leap to her access to empty houses when the pet owners are on vacation. If someone should need a temporary place to hide out while on the run…” His voice trailed off, inviting Angelica to finish.

She didn't say a word.

“How long has Romina kept the address book and keys at your place? For the past three years, when the search-and-seizure raids began?”

“Your memory strikes again.” Angelica was glib but
rather impressed, in spite of herself. His recall of seemingly throwaway information amazed her.

“Romina knew to get that book and those keys out of her house. Obviously she was tipped off.” He reached over to lightly tap her arm. “How am I doing so far?”

Angelica wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Mama got an anonymous phone call a few weeks before our house was searched for the first time. The caller said that if she didn't keep her pet-sitting business stuff in her house it wouldn't be subject to the search-and-seizure warrant.”

“So it must've been a cop with inside information,” concluded Flynt. “Your friend and Mara's admirer—TJ?”

“It was a male voice that Mama didn't recognize. Now she thinks it could've been Agent Weatherall. But she's not sure, she really isn't,” Angelica added earnestly.

“Weatherall agreed that some cases involving violence and abuse have been bungled by the courts and sometimes the underground is the only way to keep children safely away from their abusers,” Flynt murmured.

“There are a lot of people in law enforcement who share that view, Flynt. So they turn a blind eye to the safe houses and the people helping the mothers and children. If they didn't, the underground couldn't function.”

“Custody battles are ugly, Angelica. Charges and threats are made by both sides. How do you know these women are being truthful? The truth is often sacrificed when emotions run high.”

“Nancy Portland won't get involved if the woman is lying,” Angelica insisted.

“So this Nancy Portland is an infallible human lie detector? Give me a break.”

“She's trying to help people—unlike that disgusting sleaze Searcy, who hunts down scared little kids for money!” Angelica's voice trembled. “Are you going to tell him to harass my mother even more by making sure her address book and the house keys are seized, so she can't make a living?”

“As I said before, the truth gets lost when emotions run high, and right now yours are past flood level. I have no intention of saying anything to anyone, Angelica. I'm not involved in any case, I'm not an agent anymore, merely an objective observer.”

“Stop!” she exclaimed.

For a split second, Flynt thought she was going to get out of the car because she preferred getting drenched on a dark road to sharing space with reprehensible him.

But Angelica didn't reach for the door handle. “This is Blueberry Hollow Lane,” she announced.

Flynt made a sharp turn onto the narrow street.

“There's 100, 101, 103.” Angelica read the house numbers. “Even numbers are on the left, off on the right—307 must be two blocks farther.”

Which it was. Flynt swung the car into the wide, paved driveway of a big house with stucco walls. It had a brick facade with an arched doorway, and the brass numbers 307 were hung on the front door as well as painted on the decorative mailbox at the foot of the drive.

“Well, thanks for the ride.” Angelica flung open the car door. “You may as well go. There's no need for you to be stuck here. I'll drive back with Mama.”

She ran through the rain to the arched doorway.

Flynt watched her go. She was right, she could get a ride back with her mother, there was no reason for him to be stuck here. He should go back to the hotel and see if Brandon had surfaced there, he should…

Flynt swung open the car door and climbed out. He was staying whether Angelica wanted him to or not. Never mind what he ought to be doing, he couldn't leave her. A kaleidoscope of images of her tumbled through his head as he strode toward the house. He'd known her such a short time, but already she had commandeered his thoughts in a way no other woman ever had.

He remembered their passionate kiss in the booth, and heat streaked through him. It seemed that she had commandeered his body, right along with his mind.

A
ngelica was ringing the doorbell when Flynt arrived at her side. “I wouldn't dream of deserting you,” he said drolly. “If there's a dog or a pigeon on the loose, you're going to need all the extra help you can get.”

Delight surged through her. He had stayed! “Just remember, I offered you an out,” she replied, her tone as light as his. “That means no complaining whenever—”

The door was flung open. “Angel, thank God you—” Romina paused to gape at Flynt. “What is
he
doing here?”

“I was driving Angelica home when she got your summons,” he drawled.

“Well, you can't come in.” Romina's dark eyes darted from Flynt to the deserted, rainy driveway beyond him. “This isn't my house. I can't let in strangers off the street. Come on, Angel.” She grabbed Angelica by the arm and pulled her inside.

At that moment an ear-splitting primal scream sounded from within. Flynt didn't hesitate. He pushed inside, and the wind blew the door shut behind him. “What's going on, Romina?”

There was another scream.

“Who is here, Romina?” Flynt started up the paneled staircase, not waiting for an explanation. “It sounds like someone being tortured.” He headed in the direction of the screams, Romina and Angelica at his heels.

“She's in labor, Angel,” cried Romina. “You have to help her.”

“But, Mama—”

“We don't have time to talk. We can't waste a minute.” Romina pushed past Flynt to race down the long second-story hall, dragging Angelica along after her. A door stood open, and the pair entered the room.

“This is my daughter, sugar.” Romina's voice lowered to a soft, soothing croon as she crossed the room to stand by the bedside. Angelica remained in the doorway. “She's a licensed midwife and a registered nurse and she's delivered lots of babies. Angelica, this is—uh—well, she won't tell me her name.”

“Never mind my name, you can just keep calling me sugar,” whimpered the young woman sitting on the bed, the pillows propped against her back.

Flynt gauged her age to be somewhere in her twenties. She was also very pregnant—and apparently in labor. He gulped.

“Who's he?” Sugar's voice was filled with fear as she gazed at Flynt, standing directly behind Angelica.

Romina spoke up before he could. “He's Angelica's
boyfriend. You don't have to worry about him. He'll do whatever my Angel says.”

Flynt felt hot color stain his face and spiral downward. “That—that is not true.” He was amazed to hear himself sputtering. Romina's assertion rattled him far more than it should've. And his instant flashback to that passionate kiss only addled him further. “I—she—we—”

“Of course, like any man he can't stand to hear the truth about himself. Which is when Angelica snaps her fingers and says ‘Jump,' Flynt here says ‘How high, darling?'” Romina laughed, enjoying herself.

“I do not!” Flynt snapped. It was humbling to witness himself arguing, kindergarten style, knowing Romina had deliberately provoked him into it.

“You two can continue bickering somewhere else,” Angelica said firmly, taking charge. She crossed the room to stand beside the bed. “I need privacy to examine my patient.”

“Of course,” Romina agreed at once. “Let's go downstairs and boil some water, Flynt.” She shoved him into the hall.

“Romina, I will not be a party to—” Flynt began.

“Shhh! No use letting that poor girl hear us arguing, she's upset enough as it is. Come down to the kitchen with me, and I'll try to explain while we're boiling the water.”

Romina's fingers closed over Flynt's forearm, and she took off, pulling him after her, just like she'd done earlier with Angelica.

Flynt allowed himself to be dragged. There seemed to be little else he could do at this point. Bursting into the bedroom while Angelica examined the shrieking young
woman in labor seemed unwise. Not to mention unnerving.

“Why are you going to boil water?” He trailed Romina into the spacious downstairs kitchen. It looked like the domain of a gourmet chef, with every possible modern convenience.

“Don't you watch TV? Somebody always boils water when a woman is in labor.”

“This isn't a TV drama. For godsakes, Romina, call 911 and get an ambulance here to take that woman to a hospital.”

“I can't, I promised her I wouldn't. She doesn't want to go to a hospital.” Romina filled a large spaghetti pot with water and put it on the stove's electric burner. “She showed up at my door about an hour ago, crying her eyes out and said she'd heard I could help her—but she refused to tell me anything else, including her name. She's in labor, but she freaked out when I mentioned getting her to a hospital. I couldn't keep her at my place, not with Sarah and Casper there, so I brought her here to the Rydells' house. They're visiting their son in California, and I'm taking care of their dogs and their parrot.”

“And then you paged Angelica.”

Romina nodded her head. “I called Mara, too. She's a nurse and should be here real soon to help Angel with the delivery.”

“Romina, if what you say is true, and you have no information about this young woman whatsoever, why did you bring her here?” Flynt was exasperated. “Why involve Angelica? That young woman belongs in a hos
pital! Her judgment is obviously impaired, no doubt due to her condition, and—”

“The poor girl is scared and needed help and said she couldn't go to the hospital. I couldn't turn my back on her,” Romina said fiercely. “There were so many times when nobody helped me, times when me and my kids really could've used a helping hand but didn't get one. I promised myself that one day
I'd
be a helping hand for somebody else, for any young woman who needed me.”

Either she was the world's greatest actress or she was utterly sincere. Flynt leaned against the wall and listened to another shriek reverberating through the house. This time the Rydells' dogs joined in, baying in mournful harmony from their penned area off the kitchen.

“Sounds like
The Hound of The Baskervilles
,” Flynt muttered darkly. The way things were going, they probably were.

“Let's just hope the parrot doesn't start squawking again.” Romina dropped onto a chair, looking tired.

Her acceptance of the bizarre situation aggravated Flynt. “We need to find out who that girl is, Romina. She must have a purse or some kind of bag to keep money and ID. And I am going to call 911.
I
didn't make any promises not to.”

“Angelica is the one in charge now. Talk to her before you do anything.”

“If you think I'll do whatever she says, you're wrong, Romina. I don't jump to anyone's command.”

“I was only kidding when I said that. Jeez, you're touchy. Can't you even take a little joke?”

The doorbell rang, and Romina brightened consider
ably. “That'll be Mara. Want to let her in and take her up to Angelica and—uh—Sugar?”

Flynt strode off. Romina's passivity had only heightened his need for some kind of action. Red-haired Mara was standing at the door in a yellow slicker, already damp from the blowing rain. She clutched a large black bag.

“You have to be Flynt.” Mara studied him. “You look way too young to be Angel's father, Brandon.”

“Flynt Corrigan,” he confirmed. “You're supposed to help Angelica with a nameless patient upstairs.”

“That's what Romina said when she called.” Mara trooped in, shedding her slicker as she walked.

“Does this sort of thing happen often?” Flynt demanded. They walked up the stairs together. “You're summoned out at night to deliver the baby of a young woman who suddenly appears on Romina's doorstep and refuses to give her name?”

“I guess I'll go with Romina's motto, ‘Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.'” Mara followed the sound of the moaning with Flynt at her side.

Angelica's eyes shone with relief at the sight of them. “Thanks for bringing my bag, Mara.”

“I wouldn't leave home without it.” Mara handed the medical bag to Angelica and then took the patient's hand in hers. “I'm Mara, and everything is going to be all right. Angel and I are old pros at delivering babies, if I do say so myself.”

“Is he going to stay?” The young mother-to-be stared at Flynt.

“He will if you want him to,” said Mara.

“Yes,” the girl whispered. “He reminds me of my brother Joe.”

Angelica and Flynt exchanged glances.

“Angelica, may I speak with you a moment?” Flynt placed a firm hand on her shoulder to steer her to a corner of the room, out of earshot of the patient. “I'm going to call for an ambulance. Your mother won't do it but I—”

“There isn't time, the baby will be here long before any ambulance arrives. I've examined her and there are no complications. Mara and I can handle the delivery.” Angelica laid an impulsive hand on his chest. “If you want to do something for this girl, play the role of her big brother Joe for a little while.”

Big Brother.
The term resonated in Flynt's head. He'd been that once. And failed mightily in the role, according to his mother. His fingers curved automatically over Angelica's and for a moment, he held on tight.

Then Angelica broke away and returned to her patient.

“Come on, Flynt,” urged Mara. “You can be Sugar's coach.”

Flynt considered it. Him, a coach for a woman in labor, a stranger who wouldn't even tell her name. It seemed unreal. Of course from the moment he'd entered this house, it was as if he'd stepped into an alternative universe.

And in that universe, pretending to be a big brother while actually acting as a labor coach was undoubtedly the norm.

He walked slowly to the bedside, his shoulder brushing Angelica's as he passed.

“If you faint, we'll leave you on the floor, big brother,” she murmured dryly.

It was just the challenge he needed. Flynt felt immediately bolstered. “I've never fainted in my life, and I'm not about to do it now.” He took the anonymous Sugar's hand, and she squeezed hard and wailed as another contraction gripped her body.

“It hurts!” wailed Sugar.

“I bet it does,” he agreed vigorously. “Is this your first baby, Sugar?”

“I had one ten years ago, when I was fifteen,” Sugar said between pants. “I gave that one up for adoption, but this one I'm keeping.”

From her position at the foot of the bed, Angelica watched Flynt interact with Sugar. He was calm and soft-spoken, holding Sugar's hand, talking to her. Angelica admired his poise. She'd seen her share of fathers-to-be, including some who had prepared for the birth with childbirth classes and videos, lose their cool when delivery was imminent. Flynt, an unprepared civilian, was doing just fine.

“This is going to happen fast, Sugar. Push!” Angelica ordered. “Push hard.”

“The baby's head is crowning. I see a mop of dark hair, Sugar!” Mara exclaimed. “It won't be much longer now. Push, honey.”

Sugar made a sound that was something between a gasp and a scream.

“You're doing great!” Flynt said approvingly. He held on to Sugar, helping to support her in a semiupright position.

Angelica glanced at him. His face wasn't the chalky
green color of a man who was on the verge of fainting at the sight of the emerging child. She'd had her share of those, too, the queasy fathers who crumpled to the floor at a crucial time, diverting time and attention from the patient. Flynt was conducting himself like a full-fledged member of the team. She felt an absurd glimmer of pride as she watched him.

And then the baby required her complete concentration.

“Here he is!” Angelica grasped the wriggling newborn boy who began to squall the moment he emerged.

“Listen to him roar!” Flynt hugged Sugar. “He's got a powerful set of lungs on him, Sugar.”

Angelica handed the infant to Mara, who wrapped him in a blanket and carried him to his mother. Angelica felt elated, just as she always did after a successful delivery.

“He's beautiful!” Sugar wept, clutching the baby. “Oh, Joe, I love him so much.”

Flynt did not correct her; if she needed him to be her brother Joe for a while longer, he was willing. “I know you love him,” he said quietly. “You're going to be a good mother, Sugar.”

“I promise I will,” the young mother exclaimed, gazing at the baby. “And I'm going to name him Sawyer Matthew. I picked it out months ago.”

“A fine name,” said Flynt, his eyes moving from the infant to Angelica.

For a few blissful seconds, he allowed himself to fantasize that he was the father of Angelica's child, that he would cradle her and their baby in his arms, moments after supporting her through the birth.

“Flynt, why don't you join Romina downstairs
now?” Mara's suggestion was an unwelcome intrusion into his enchanted fantasy. “We want to put the baby to breast now and—”

“I'm on my way.” Flynt knew he was being kicked out and acceded gracefully. He walked to the door.

“Flynt.” Angelica's voice halted him in his tracks. He turned and faced her. “You—you were a real help tonight. Thank you.”

Warmth radiated through him. He left the room with a smile as broad as a proud father's. Or big brother's.

 

“Renee Riley is on her way to my little getaway cabin in Wyoming.” Back in Minneapolis, Kate Fortune hung up the phone, looking pleased.

Sterling lit his pipe. “Kate, my dear, you have a myriad of young relatives, all your own grandchildren and all of Ben's brothers' grandchildren, Zeke's and Caleb's and—”

“Your point, please, darling,” Kate teased merrily.

“With all the young Fortune lives to manage and arrange, kindly explain to me why you've branched out to meddle in Renee Riley's life? I agree that fiancé of hers, Lyle Whoever, is a repellent character, but young Renee did agree to marry him, didn't she? Sending her off to Last Resort, Wyoming, days before her scheduled wedding is a bit beyond the pale, even for you, my love.”