Belonging (19 page)

"I didn't realize it was that obvious," she
said in a low voice.

"It isn't." Marilyn paused. "Except maybe to
someone who's been through it."

Angie stared at her. Marilyn Winters seemed
so vibrant, so alive. For a moment she had trouble reconciling
the woman before her with a woman who had been battered and
bruised. There was a frown on her face as her gaze dropped to the
shining gold band on Marilyn's left hand.

Marilyn smiled when she saw the direction of
Angie's eyes. "Put there by a man who cared enough to see me
through some bad times." The smile broadened. "A very persistent
man!"

Persistent. Matt's dark face immediately swam
before her, and her lips twitched unwillingly. "Is there any other
kind?" she murmured dryly.

They both laughed, and Angie felt some of her
tension ease. Marilyn's expression grew more serious, though, when
she rose and came around to perch a slender hip against the side of
the desk. "I always tell the women who pass through here that the
important thing to remember is you're not alone." The words were
accompanied by a gentle squeeze of Angie's shoulder. "And no one
should be afraid to ask for help."

Angie's tentative smile froze at the sound of
the door opening. A policeman came inside, followed by a young
woman who held a baby in her arms. Fear stood out starkly on her
face; a nasty-looking bruise darkened her cheekbone. Angie closed
her eyes. A frigid cold seemed to permeate every part of her
body.

She heard the words "family fight" pass
between Marilyn and the officer. Then he turned to the woman he'd
introduced as Bonnie. "You'll be able to stay here until your
husband calms down," he reassured her. Angie didn't hear the rest
of the low-voiced conversation.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him
that she saw the child standing behind his mother's legs, clutching
a blanket and a bedraggled stuffed animal. She realized he was no
older than Casey. She nearly cried out as his uncertain gaze
trickled around the room before finally coming to rest on her.

She was on her knees in front of him before
she even realized it. "It's okay," she whispered past the lump in
her throat. Her smile was tremulous. "Everything will be okay,
you'll see." She opened her arms, and the little boy walked into
them without a word.

Marilyn was right, she thought after the trio
had been settled into a bedroom. It was good that the shelter was
here for women like Bonnie.

But no woman should have to go through such
hell in the first place.

***

The clear day had vanished with the onset of
night. The star-studded sky of the past few weeks was hidden behind
a curtain of dense gray clouds. As Angie stared straight ahead, a
lone silver streak of lightning zigzagged across the sky.

There was a definite threat of rain in the
air by the time Matt pulled into her driveway at nine that
evening. An hour earlier Casey had crawled onto Angie's lap and
had proceeded to fall fast asleep. Her head sagged limply against
Angie's breast, and one small hand lay curled on her shoulder.

Glancing back, she saw that Kim had sprawled
out on the back seat as much as she could wearing a seat belt.
Neither one roused when the car rolled to a halt.

Matt's smile encompassed both sleeping
children. "Too much excitement," he said. "I'll give you a hand
getting them inside." Strong arms reached for Kim, and he followed
her into the house.

"Upstairs," she whispered, juggling Casey
against her shoulder. A floorboard creaked as she headed toward
the stairs.

A low chuckle sounded behind her. "We've been
through this before. Remember?"

How could she forget the Saturday he'd gone
with them to Kim's game? Angie flushed, but the feeling of
resentment she'd felt that night when the two of them had executed
this same ritual was absent tonight. In fact, she was rather glad
of his help.

Kim opened her eyes just as Angie was about
to leave the room. "Mommy?" she whispered.

Angie sat on the edge of the bed. Lowering
her voice to a whisper, she asked, "Did you have a good time
today?"

Kim nodded and smiled, a wide smile that
Angie had seen all too little the past few years. "The umpires were
all dressed the same, and they wore funny little hats." She
giggled. "When they came out on the field, Casey asked Matt why all
the priests were there."

Angie's laughter joined her daughter's,
though Matt had already told her of the incident. Pushing the soft
brown curls off Kim's forehead, she paused. "Do you like Matt,
Kim?"

"I didn't think I would at first." Kim
hesitated, then smiled. "But I do now. He's really nice."

"And of course the fact that he gave you an
autographed baseball doesn't have a thing to do with it." Angie's
eyes were twinkling as she gazed down at her daughter.

"Well—" Kim bit her lip, her eyes sparkling
impishly "—that was when I decided he was okay after all." She
added rather shyly, "He told me he'd help me work on my batting and
my pitching. Then maybe next year I can pitch instead of play
second base." She stopped and looked up pleadingly at Angie. "Is it
all right, Mommy? If Matt helps me?"

Even if she'd wanted to, Angie couldn't have
refused. "Of course it is, sweetie." As she spoke, she felt a
curious tightening in her chest. It was at times like this that she
prayed the lack of a father figure in the girls' lives didn't
affect them adversely, either now or when they were older.

Keeping Evan's memory alive in the minds of
his two daughters hadn't been easy for Angie. Regardless of her own
feelings about Evan, she felt it wouldn't have been fair to Kim and
Casey to shut him out of their lives completely.

"You miss your father, don't you, hon?" The
words came with difficulty, though she tried not to show it. It was
always that way when she spoke of Evan to the children.

The spark immediately faded from Kim's eyes.
Angie felt as if her heart were being torn in two as the seconds
marched silently by. Finally Kim turned over on her side and tucked
a hand beneath her cheek. "I think I'd like to go to sleep now,"
she whispered in a small voice.

Angie sighed, seized by a feeling of
inadequacy. "Sure, baby," she murmured. "Sure." She kissed her
good-night, then went downstairs, her heart weighing heavily in her
chest.

She found Matt in the kitchen, and he handed
her a steaming mug of coffee.

"Thanks," she murmured gratefully, sinking
down onto the nearest chair. She felt tired, but she knew it was
because the day had drained her emotionally.

Matt sat down next to her, studying her as he
raised his cup to his lips. Her deep blue eyes were shadowed, and
though her complexion looked as fresh and dewy as it had this
morning, he thought she seemed a little pale.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

"I'm fine."

The smile she flashed was bright, a little
too bright, he thought. "You didn't eat much when we stopped for
dinner," he pointed out, then smiled crookedly. "And you can't
plead too many hot dogs and peanuts like the girls and me."

Angie was silent. The memory of Bonnie still
fresh in her mind, she had been too shaken to eat. Even now, hours
later, the idea of food held little appeal.

"I'm sorry," she said feebly, not knowing
what else to say. A part of her wanted to tell him what had
happened, and yet the woman's bruised face, two small children—-it
simply struck too close to home.

She could feel his probing gaze on her face.
She saw him frown, and aware that some of her feelings must have
shown in her expression, she jumped up. "Spooky," she muttered.
"I'd better let her inside. She wasn't in the yard when we left
this morning and she's probably starving."

She flipped on the back porch light and
stepped outside to call the cat. Wrapping her arms around herself
to ward off the night's coolness, she happened to glance back at
the door just as Matt was coming through. It was then that she saw
something twisted around the door handle, the faintest sparkle in
the darkness. An eerie chillness inched up her spine.

Puzzled at the odd expression on her face,
Matt followed the direction of her eyes. They both realized what
it was at the same time. Spooky's collar.

***

Angie moved closer, watching as Matt
struggled to free the collar from the door. It had been twisted and
knotted over and over again—the work of a human hand. When at last
it was free, Angie stared down at the mangled bit of leather and
rhinestone that lay in Matt's hand.

His eyes met hers. "Someone," he said very
quietly, "took this collar from Spooky and deliberately—"

"No," she muttered disbelievingly. "No!" She
rushed from the patio and frantically began to call Spooky.

"Angie!" Matt's voice was sharp as he pulled
her around to face him. "You won't find her—"

She refused to let him finish. "No!" She
yanked her arm free of his grip, unwilling to let herself give in
to a sickening feeling of dread. "She's around here somewhere,"
she cried. "She has to be! She's a house cat, Matt. The farthest
she roams is the Crawford's. She's never outside much longer than
an hour or so, especially when she's hungry, and she wouldn't have
run away!"

Her eyes were dark with anguish as she stared
up at him through the moonlit darkness, and he sensed a kind of
wild desperation in her. "I'll go have a look around and see if
she's wandered off somewhere," he told her quickly, then followed
it up with a firm order. "You go inside, sit down and relax. If
Spooky is anywhere near here, I'll find her."

But he didn't, and a muffled oath hovered on
his lips when he saw Angie huddled on the top step half an hour
later. She looked so forlorn, though, he just didn't have the heart
to tell her the cat was probably dead.

"You didn't find Spooky, did you?" She tried
not to sound too glum, but when he shook his head, she couldn't
stop her shoulders from slumping. "I suppose someone could have
seen her and taken her in for the night," she murmured, allowing
him to pull her to her feet.

Matt placed a hand on her shoulder but didn't
respond until he had guided her to the living room. She flopped
down on the sofa and dropped her head back, too tired and bemused
to notice Matt's preoccupied expression as he paced restlessly
around the room.

Finally he halted in front of the fireplace,
his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. "I don't think
you'll find her, Angie," he said quietly. "Finding Spooky's collar
like that... it wasn't a prank. You realize that, don't you?"

She shook her head slightly, her lips pressed
together. "Maybe someone saw her and decided to steal her. Maybe
she wandered off and someone took her in for the night...."

She was grasping at straws, and they both
knew it. "This was deliberate," he countered bluntly. "To get at
you somehow. Spooky might well be dead—-at the very least
kidnapped—-and I don't think you'll ever get her back."

"Come on, Matt," she started to protest. "I
think you're reading too much into it."

"Am I?" His voice was harsh. "First your
tires were slashed. Then the vandalism in your yard, and now
Spooky."

"You mean you think the three are connected?"
If she sounded rather skeptical, she couldn't help it.

"Then who put the collar on the door?"

She faltered at the demand in his voice.
"I...I don't know." The thought of someone in her backyard again
filled her with a feeling of unease. She bit her lip, not quite
meeting his eyes. "Still, I wouldn't call it anything but a run of
bad luck."

"You can call it whatever you want," he told
her grimly, "but what I'd like to know is why."

"If you're right, it's because someone's
decided I'm public enemy number one." The halfhearted attempt at
humor fell miserably short. "Don't glare at me," she muttered in
response to his withering look. His mouth only tightened further,
and she retorted, "If I'm on someone's hit list, then it's up to
you to find out, isn't it?"

"Exactly," he said grimly.

At that she straightened abruptly. "Matt!"
she cried. "I was being sarcastic. You don't have to take this so
seriously."

"It's time someone did because you obviously
aren't going to."

His tone dared her to argue, and for a moment
there was a standoff. Suddenly Angie's shoulders slumped. The hours
at the shelter, Spooky disappearing...it was all too much.

"Matt, please." She sighed wearily. "Can't
this wait until some other time?" She tried to smile, but she found
her mouth was trembling at the corners.

She knew Matt had heard the curious catch in
her voice. There was an unaccustomed ache in her throat as she
watched his expression change from challenging to one of the
utmost gentleness.

She was beginning to fear that gentleness.
Matt was a man who had known bitterness and loneliness, too. And
still he was unafraid to show the soft side of his nature.

"I'm sorry, Angie," he said quietly. She felt
the cushions beside her give beneath his weight. "I didn't know
Spooky meant that much to you."

Again she tried to smile. The attempt was
even more pitiful than before. She was so damn vulnerable, Matt
thought to himself half angrily, and she was just as determined
not to show it. But he capped the lid on the spurt of temper and
reached out a hand to touch her shoulder.

Every muscle in her body tightened against
him, but deliberately he kept his hand where it was, spanning the
width between her shoulder blades. He was tired of these games, but
at the same time he realized he didn't dare move too fast for her.
Still, he couldn't help being a little hurt by her reaction.

"Just relax." He spoke without realizing he
did so. "I won't hurt you."