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"Really?" Jolie sent them both a thoughtful look. "You three look like
a family, you know that?"
"We're not," Caitlyn replied.
"No, we're not," Matt echoed, but he had a shocking feeling he wanted
them to be just that.
streets of San Francisco at his direction, making turns that were
inexplicably leading them away from their apartment building.
"I want to show you something," Matt said somewhat tersely.
She cast him a quick glance, but he was staring out the window, tapping
his fingers against one thigh. He'd been quiet at brunch, too. In fact,
after that kiss in the kitchen he'd pulled away from her, keeping
a
distance between them at all times.
It had been easy for him to do that, her mother having placed Brian
next to Caitlyn with Matt at the other end of the table. The
conversation had been carefully manipulated by her mother as well, as
Marilyn discussed the highlights of Brian's year in Boston,
accentuating each positive point for Caitlyn's benefit.
Did Caitlyn realize that Brian's
research paper had won an important award? That he was being courted by
both Stanford and
California University? And wasn't Caitlyn proud of him for all that he
had accomplished?
Caitlyn had managed to nod and murmur appropriately, the only saving
grace being Brian's own embarrassment. It reminded her of the man she'd
once loved, a man who could be intellectually arrogant but also
appealingly human.
She knew Matt thought she was an idiot for even considering giving
Brian another chance. But he only knew part of the story. That was the
problem. Everyone knew only a small part of the story, and she wasn't
brave enough to put it all together for them.
"Turn right at the next light," Matt said.
"What are you planning to show me?'" she asked, relieved to have
something else to think out. Granted, she was quickly becoming the
queen of denial, but like Scarlett in her favorite novel,
Gone with the
Wind,
she'd think about that tomorrow.
"You'll see."
"How's Emily doing'.'"
"Fast asleep" Mati looked into the backseat, where they'd placed
Emily's car seat. "I think she likes cars."
"You'll have to remember thai the next time she wakes up at two a.m."
"So, now I'll be driving around the city in the middle of the night?"
"Or spending a lot of time on the roof.'"
He smiled, and she felt a welcome relief that the camaraderie between
them had returned. As they drove down lower Market toward the theater
district and the area known as the Tenderloin, Caitlyn noticed the
growing numbers of homeless people on the streets, the graffiti on
alley walls, the gradual deterioration
of the neighborhoods.
"Hard to wear those rose-colored glasses around here, isn't it?" Matt
asked, an edge back in his voice.
His profile was etched in stone, his
eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses that gave nothing away.
"Turn left at the next block."
She drove down a residential street filled with cheap, old apartment
buildings squished tightly together.
"Pull over," he said, staring at a building on the other side of the
street.
Caitlyn parked the car and turned off the engine. "Who lives here?"
He swallowed, the pulse in his jaw beating overtime. "I used to live
here."
His childhood home. She should have guessed. "Do you think Sarah is
here?"
"No. I've had my investigator check it out every day, every hour
practically. She hasn't been back."
Caitlyn remained silent for a few minutes. "Why are we here?"
"Since I saw where you grew up, I thought I'd return the favor."
She thought about that. "Another line in the sand? Do you think I'm a
snob as well as privileged?"
"I think you're a girl from the other side of the tracks."
"The tracks don't run through this city."
"You know what I mean."
"I know you put way too much importance on circumstances. Neither one
of us was responsible for where we grew up or how we grew up."
He turned in his seat to look at her. "Even so, you can't imagine what
it was like to grow up here."
"Why don't you tell me?"
"I can't."
"You can't or you won't?" She looked toward the apartment building.
"Which window was yours?"
For a moment she didn't think he would answer, then he said, "Fourth
floor, last window on the end. That's where Sarah would sit and stare
out at the stars. She was like you. She thought there was some answer
to be found in the heavens."
"Have you been back inside?"
"No. God no! Why would I want to do that?"
"Maybe to see if anything has changed. Maybe to see if you've changed."
"I have changed. This place is just the same."
"How would you know if you haven't been inside?"
"I know."
"But there was a fire. They must have remodeled. Don't you want to see
what they did?"
"No."
"You can't make yourself go in, can you?"
"I've tried," he grudgingly admitted, "My last memory of this building
is watching the smoke pour
through the windows and the flames leap out
in long, monstrous fingers, trying to suck us back in."
Caitlyn felt a chill run down her spine at his words. She could only
imagine a young boy and his sister,
all alone, watching their only home
burn. "Where was your mother at the time of the fire?"
"I have no idea."
"How did the fire start?"
"I don't know."
He was lying. For some reason, the man who loved the truth was lying.
Why?
"Oh, my God," she said, jumping to the most logical conclusion. "Sarah
started the fire, didn't she?"
"No."
"Yes. You're lying to protect her. I know it's the truth because you
can't look at me and tell me it isn't, can you?"
He stared out the window, wrestling with the question in agonizing
silence.
"Sarah was fascinated with fire," he said finally. "My mother used to
light candles at night, and she'd let Sarah light them sometimes
because—because she couldn't quite hold her hand steady enough to
strike the match. It was something they did together. But sometimes
Sarah picked up the matches when my mother wasn't home. I think she'd
light the candles hoping they would bring my mother back."
"And one night they started a fire instead."
"I accused her of ruining what little we had left in our lives. Damn
it, Caitlyn." The lines in his face tightened with guilt. "She was a
little girl, and I screamed at her like a lunatic. And she just looked
at me with her big dark eyes and said she was sorry. I never saw her
again after that. I never had a chance to tell her I didn't mean it."
Caitlyn didn't know what to say. Some things couldn't be taken back or
done over.
"Is it any wonder she dropped her baby in front of my door and ran like
hell?" he asked bitterly. "She probably still can't face me."
Caitlyn wondered if that were true. Had Sarah left Emily with just a
note because she couldn't face her brother? Because of some angry words
spoken between them more than a decade ago? Caitlyn couldn't quite
believe that Sarah would leave her baby with a man she didn't trust
completely, which made any anger on her part illogical.
"I don't think that's it," she said slowly. "I think whatever caused
Sarah to leave Emily with you has
more to do with who she
is now than who you were then."
"Maybe who she is now is because of who I was then."
How could she argue with a man who was so good with words? "I think you
should do what you normally do—get the facts first, then decide."
"How do you know what I normally do?" he asked grumpily.
"Well, I figure that's what most good reporters do, and I think you did
tell me you were a good reporter." She offered him a wheedling smile.
"Come on, Matt. You know you won't be able to make sense of this until
you find Sarah. Until then you have to be objective."
"I can't be objective about this. And I'm not sure I will find Sarah.
It's been three days. Where the hell
is she?"
Matt suddenly straightened in his seat. She followed his gaze, but
didn't see anything that might have
set his nerves on edge. "What's
wrong?"
"That woman, the one wearing the straw hat and carrying a water can.
Did you see her?"
"Where?" she asked.
"She was right there." He pointed down the street "How could you not
see her?"
"I was looking at you. Who was she? Someone you know?"
He hesitated. "Probably not. It's just that my mother used to water the
plants in our apartment with an old-fashioned watering can. Sometimes,
I thought she cared more about those plants than she did about us.
Hell, maybe she did." He shrugged. "This place makes me crazy. I keep
looking for the people who used to be here. Mr. Maloney's newspaper
stand was on the corner over there by the liquor store, but he's gone
now." Matt pointed to another abandoned storefront farther down the
block. "That was a blues club. I'd lay awake in my bed at night with
the windows open and listen to the music. It made it seem
like there
was something good about the neighborhood. I'm sure it was a drug den.
There were fights
and sirens blaring after midnight. But I just heard
the saxophone."
Caitlyn could almost hear it, too, so vividly had he painted the scene.
"Matt?"
"What?"
"Tell me again. Why are we really here?"
He shifted restlessly in his seat. "Things were getting out of hand at
your parents' house."
She stiffened, having a feeling she'd rather talk about his past than
hers. "So you thought this would
scare me off."
"I know you wanted a buffer between you and Brian, but your friends and
your family started
wondering about us, thinking that you and I are
something more. And we're not."
"I know that." She just wasn't sure she liked hearing it said so
certainly, as if there were no possibility
that they could be more.
Well, that was a ridiculous way to feel, she told herself firmly. She
was already confused enough about Brian, how could she throw another
man into the mix? Matt's attitude was perfect. They wouldn't have any
misunderstandings between them.
Of course, there was that physical thing that even now was turning the
air into electrical currents flowing back and forth between them in the
intimacy of the car. Caitlyn was acutely aware of how close Matt
was to
her, just an automatic gearshift between them, barely a foot. She could
touch him if she wanted
to. He could touch her— not that he would want
to.
"I know you were just helping rne out today, nothing more." Despite her
blithe words, she knew how easy it had been to
pretend that Matt and Emily were something more. She'd already gotten
too involved and emotionally attached to both of them, but she couldn't
let Matt know. She wouldn't make her feelings his responsibility. "It's
okay, really. You don't have to worry. I know where the lines are."
"Something tells me you don't know how to color within the lines."
"I can if I have to. But sometimes you get a better result if you don't
paint by the numbers. It's called being imaginative and creative, and
the result can be fabulous."
"Or it can be a mess. I like you," he said huskily, meeting her eyes.
"That's not the point, you know."
Oh, Lord. If he was going to be nice, acting casual would be a lot more
difficult.
"I thought bringing you here might make you see how far apart we are.
But all I can think about right
now is how close you're sitting to me
and how much closer I'd like you to get."
Caitlyn sucked in a desperate breath. Then he leaned over, and her
heartbeat came to an abrupt and shattering halt as he put a finger
under her chin and turned her face toward him. She thought he was
going
to kiss her, but he surprised her by simply removing her sunglasses.
"I can't see what you're thinking," he said.
"I could say the same about you." She pulled off his glasses before
realizing how much more unsettling his gaze would be without any
barrier between them. Eye to eye, there was an even greater connection,
one that seemed impossible to break.
"What am I going to do about you?" he murmured.
"I have no idea. You keep telling me we're not going to be more than
friends, but we keep getting friendlier."
"You talk too much."
"And you're going to make me stop?"
"Oh, yeah." Not a man to ignore a dare, Matt's mouth came down on hers
before she had a chance to reconsider her impulsive challenge.
Matt kissed with the same brutal honesty with which he spoke, not
letting her retreat or hold back when her good-girl upbringing warred
with her desperate need to slide her tongue into his mouth and taste
him. And when Matt put his hands on her arms, pulling her deeper into
his embrace, all she could think about was getting closer to all that
heat.
"God," he swore as he released her, their breaths coming fast and
ragged, steaming up the car in the middle of the afternoon. "What you
do to me. I could forget everything."
Caitlyn sat back, suddenly realizing how much she'd forgotten, like the
fact that they were parked on a busy street with a baby sleeping in the
very backseat she would have liked to hop into with Matt.
"Well, that was . .." She couldn't even think what it was Fun? Wild?
Stupid? All of the above'.'
"Yeah, it sure was. Want to do it again?"
Her pulse leaped in response, but she forced herself to shake her head.
"No."
"Right. Can you open a window? It's hot in here."
Caiilyn started the engine so she could lower the power windows,
flooding the car with cool air. For a moment they just sat there and
breathed in and out until the tension between them began to dissipate.
"We could just go home," Caitlyn finally suggested, quickly realizing
that her use of the word home
hadn't exactly made things easier. She
jumped back in with another suggestion. "Or we could do what
I always do when I don't know
what to do next."
"And what would that be?"
"Go shopping."
He groaned. "I hate shopping, especially with a female."
"Well, you're in luck, because you won't just be shopping with a female
but for a female. Seriously,
Matt, Emily needs some clothes. We can't
keep changing her from one outfit to the other. And I was thinking
maybe ..."
"I'm not buying a crib."
The man was incredible at reading her mind. "Okay, how about a cradle,
or one of those traveling cribs, so Emily has a more comfortable place
to sleep?"
"She won't be staying long enough to need any furniture."
"Matt!"
"All right, a couple of outfits. We can always give them to Sarah when
she comes back, but don't get carried away."
a family, you know that?"
"We're not," Caitlyn replied.
"No, we're not," Matt echoed, but he had a shocking feeling he wanted
them to be just that.
nine
"Where are we going?" Caitlyn asked Matt as she drove through thestreets of San Francisco at his direction, making turns that were
inexplicably leading them away from their apartment building.
"I want to show you something," Matt said somewhat tersely.
She cast him a quick glance, but he was staring out the window, tapping
his fingers against one thigh. He'd been quiet at brunch, too. In fact,
after that kiss in the kitchen he'd pulled away from her, keeping
a
distance between them at all times.
It had been easy for him to do that, her mother having placed Brian
next to Caitlyn with Matt at the other end of the table. The
conversation had been carefully manipulated by her mother as well, as
Marilyn discussed the highlights of Brian's year in Boston,
accentuating each positive point for Caitlyn's benefit.
Did Caitlyn realize that Brian's
research paper had won an important award? That he was being courted by
both Stanford and
California University? And wasn't Caitlyn proud of him for all that he
had accomplished?
Caitlyn had managed to nod and murmur appropriately, the only saving
grace being Brian's own embarrassment. It reminded her of the man she'd
once loved, a man who could be intellectually arrogant but also
appealingly human.
She knew Matt thought she was an idiot for even considering giving
Brian another chance. But he only knew part of the story. That was the
problem. Everyone knew only a small part of the story, and she wasn't
brave enough to put it all together for them.
"Turn right at the next light," Matt said.
"What are you planning to show me?'" she asked, relieved to have
something else to think out. Granted, she was quickly becoming the
queen of denial, but like Scarlett in her favorite novel,
Gone with the
Wind,
she'd think about that tomorrow.
"You'll see."
"How's Emily doing'.'"
"Fast asleep" Mati looked into the backseat, where they'd placed
Emily's car seat. "I think she likes cars."
"You'll have to remember thai the next time she wakes up at two a.m."
"So, now I'll be driving around the city in the middle of the night?"
"Or spending a lot of time on the roof.'"
He smiled, and she felt a welcome relief that the camaraderie between
them had returned. As they drove down lower Market toward the theater
district and the area known as the Tenderloin, Caitlyn noticed the
growing numbers of homeless people on the streets, the graffiti on
alley walls, the gradual deterioration
of the neighborhoods.
"Hard to wear those rose-colored glasses around here, isn't it?" Matt
asked, an edge back in his voice.
His profile was etched in stone, his
eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses that gave nothing away.
"Turn left at the next block."
She drove down a residential street filled with cheap, old apartment
buildings squished tightly together.
"Pull over," he said, staring at a building on the other side of the
street.
Caitlyn parked the car and turned off the engine. "Who lives here?"
He swallowed, the pulse in his jaw beating overtime. "I used to live
here."
His childhood home. She should have guessed. "Do you think Sarah is
here?"
"No. I've had my investigator check it out every day, every hour
practically. She hasn't been back."
Caitlyn remained silent for a few minutes. "Why are we here?"
"Since I saw where you grew up, I thought I'd return the favor."
She thought about that. "Another line in the sand? Do you think I'm a
snob as well as privileged?"
"I think you're a girl from the other side of the tracks."
"The tracks don't run through this city."
"You know what I mean."
"I know you put way too much importance on circumstances. Neither one
of us was responsible for where we grew up or how we grew up."
He turned in his seat to look at her. "Even so, you can't imagine what
it was like to grow up here."
"Why don't you tell me?"
"I can't."
"You can't or you won't?" She looked toward the apartment building.
"Which window was yours?"
For a moment she didn't think he would answer, then he said, "Fourth
floor, last window on the end. That's where Sarah would sit and stare
out at the stars. She was like you. She thought there was some answer
to be found in the heavens."
"Have you been back inside?"
"No. God no! Why would I want to do that?"
"Maybe to see if anything has changed. Maybe to see if you've changed."
"I have changed. This place is just the same."
"How would you know if you haven't been inside?"
"I know."
"But there was a fire. They must have remodeled. Don't you want to see
what they did?"
"No."
"You can't make yourself go in, can you?"
"I've tried," he grudgingly admitted, "My last memory of this building
is watching the smoke pour
through the windows and the flames leap out
in long, monstrous fingers, trying to suck us back in."
Caitlyn felt a chill run down her spine at his words. She could only
imagine a young boy and his sister,
all alone, watching their only home
burn. "Where was your mother at the time of the fire?"
"I have no idea."
"How did the fire start?"
"I don't know."
He was lying. For some reason, the man who loved the truth was lying.
Why?
"Oh, my God," she said, jumping to the most logical conclusion. "Sarah
started the fire, didn't she?"
"No."
"Yes. You're lying to protect her. I know it's the truth because you
can't look at me and tell me it isn't, can you?"
He stared out the window, wrestling with the question in agonizing
silence.
"Sarah was fascinated with fire," he said finally. "My mother used to
light candles at night, and she'd let Sarah light them sometimes
because—because she couldn't quite hold her hand steady enough to
strike the match. It was something they did together. But sometimes
Sarah picked up the matches when my mother wasn't home. I think she'd
light the candles hoping they would bring my mother back."
"And one night they started a fire instead."
"I accused her of ruining what little we had left in our lives. Damn
it, Caitlyn." The lines in his face tightened with guilt. "She was a
little girl, and I screamed at her like a lunatic. And she just looked
at me with her big dark eyes and said she was sorry. I never saw her
again after that. I never had a chance to tell her I didn't mean it."
Caitlyn didn't know what to say. Some things couldn't be taken back or
done over.
"Is it any wonder she dropped her baby in front of my door and ran like
hell?" he asked bitterly. "She probably still can't face me."
Caitlyn wondered if that were true. Had Sarah left Emily with just a
note because she couldn't face her brother? Because of some angry words
spoken between them more than a decade ago? Caitlyn couldn't quite
believe that Sarah would leave her baby with a man she didn't trust
completely, which made any anger on her part illogical.
"I don't think that's it," she said slowly. "I think whatever caused
Sarah to leave Emily with you has
more to do with who she
is now than who you were then."
"Maybe who she is now is because of who I was then."
How could she argue with a man who was so good with words? "I think you
should do what you normally do—get the facts first, then decide."
"How do you know what I normally do?" he asked grumpily.
"Well, I figure that's what most good reporters do, and I think you did
tell me you were a good reporter." She offered him a wheedling smile.
"Come on, Matt. You know you won't be able to make sense of this until
you find Sarah. Until then you have to be objective."
"I can't be objective about this. And I'm not sure I will find Sarah.
It's been three days. Where the hell
is she?"
Matt suddenly straightened in his seat. She followed his gaze, but
didn't see anything that might have
set his nerves on edge. "What's
wrong?"
"That woman, the one wearing the straw hat and carrying a water can.
Did you see her?"
"Where?" she asked.
"She was right there." He pointed down the street "How could you not
see her?"
"I was looking at you. Who was she? Someone you know?"
He hesitated. "Probably not. It's just that my mother used to water the
plants in our apartment with an old-fashioned watering can. Sometimes,
I thought she cared more about those plants than she did about us.
Hell, maybe she did." He shrugged. "This place makes me crazy. I keep
looking for the people who used to be here. Mr. Maloney's newspaper
stand was on the corner over there by the liquor store, but he's gone
now." Matt pointed to another abandoned storefront farther down the
block. "That was a blues club. I'd lay awake in my bed at night with
the windows open and listen to the music. It made it seem
like there
was something good about the neighborhood. I'm sure it was a drug den.
There were fights
and sirens blaring after midnight. But I just heard
the saxophone."
Caitlyn could almost hear it, too, so vividly had he painted the scene.
"Matt?"
"What?"
"Tell me again. Why are we really here?"
He shifted restlessly in his seat. "Things were getting out of hand at
your parents' house."
She stiffened, having a feeling she'd rather talk about his past than
hers. "So you thought this would
scare me off."
"I know you wanted a buffer between you and Brian, but your friends and
your family started
wondering about us, thinking that you and I are
something more. And we're not."
"I know that." She just wasn't sure she liked hearing it said so
certainly, as if there were no possibility
that they could be more.
Well, that was a ridiculous way to feel, she told herself firmly. She
was already confused enough about Brian, how could she throw another
man into the mix? Matt's attitude was perfect. They wouldn't have any
misunderstandings between them.
Of course, there was that physical thing that even now was turning the
air into electrical currents flowing back and forth between them in the
intimacy of the car. Caitlyn was acutely aware of how close Matt
was to
her, just an automatic gearshift between them, barely a foot. She could
touch him if she wanted
to. He could touch her— not that he would want
to.
"I know you were just helping rne out today, nothing more." Despite her
blithe words, she knew how easy it had been to
pretend that Matt and Emily were something more. She'd already gotten
too involved and emotionally attached to both of them, but she couldn't
let Matt know. She wouldn't make her feelings his responsibility. "It's
okay, really. You don't have to worry. I know where the lines are."
"Something tells me you don't know how to color within the lines."
"I can if I have to. But sometimes you get a better result if you don't
paint by the numbers. It's called being imaginative and creative, and
the result can be fabulous."
"Or it can be a mess. I like you," he said huskily, meeting her eyes.
"That's not the point, you know."
Oh, Lord. If he was going to be nice, acting casual would be a lot more
difficult.
"I thought bringing you here might make you see how far apart we are.
But all I can think about right
now is how close you're sitting to me
and how much closer I'd like you to get."
Caitlyn sucked in a desperate breath. Then he leaned over, and her
heartbeat came to an abrupt and shattering halt as he put a finger
under her chin and turned her face toward him. She thought he was
going
to kiss her, but he surprised her by simply removing her sunglasses.
"I can't see what you're thinking," he said.
"I could say the same about you." She pulled off his glasses before
realizing how much more unsettling his gaze would be without any
barrier between them. Eye to eye, there was an even greater connection,
one that seemed impossible to break.
"What am I going to do about you?" he murmured.
"I have no idea. You keep telling me we're not going to be more than
friends, but we keep getting friendlier."
"You talk too much."
"And you're going to make me stop?"
"Oh, yeah." Not a man to ignore a dare, Matt's mouth came down on hers
before she had a chance to reconsider her impulsive challenge.
Matt kissed with the same brutal honesty with which he spoke, not
letting her retreat or hold back when her good-girl upbringing warred
with her desperate need to slide her tongue into his mouth and taste
him. And when Matt put his hands on her arms, pulling her deeper into
his embrace, all she could think about was getting closer to all that
heat.
"God," he swore as he released her, their breaths coming fast and
ragged, steaming up the car in the middle of the afternoon. "What you
do to me. I could forget everything."
Caitlyn sat back, suddenly realizing how much she'd forgotten, like the
fact that they were parked on a busy street with a baby sleeping in the
very backseat she would have liked to hop into with Matt.
"Well, that was . .." She couldn't even think what it was Fun? Wild?
Stupid? All of the above'.'
"Yeah, it sure was. Want to do it again?"
Her pulse leaped in response, but she forced herself to shake her head.
"No."
"Right. Can you open a window? It's hot in here."
Caiilyn started the engine so she could lower the power windows,
flooding the car with cool air. For a moment they just sat there and
breathed in and out until the tension between them began to dissipate.
"We could just go home," Caitlyn finally suggested, quickly realizing
that her use of the word home
hadn't exactly made things easier. She
jumped back in with another suggestion. "Or we could do what
I always do when I don't know
what to do next."
"And what would that be?"
"Go shopping."
He groaned. "I hate shopping, especially with a female."
"Well, you're in luck, because you won't just be shopping with a female
but for a female. Seriously,
Matt, Emily needs some clothes. We can't
keep changing her from one outfit to the other. And I was thinking
maybe ..."
"I'm not buying a crib."
The man was incredible at reading her mind. "Okay, how about a cradle,
or one of those traveling cribs, so Emily has a more comfortable place
to sleep?"
"She won't be staying long enough to need any furniture."
"Matt!"
"All right, a couple of outfits. We can always give them to Sarah when
she comes back, but don't get carried away."
BOOK: Barbara Freethy - Some Kind Of Wonderful
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