Lure of Song and Magic (27 page)

Chapter 34

Pippa hadn't expected her hypnotic story reading to lure Donal from his keepers—if he was even here. She could only hope she had lulled them into complacence.

Like the color of her eyes on film, the full power of her Voice did not come through in recordings. She'd hoped enough of the siren quality of the seal song would survive on the CD, as the anger had on the recordings her mother heard, but a child's song was more subtle. It apparently needed to be live to work.

She had no idea what would happen if she sang. She'd never killed an audience, though. She'd caused riots, but drunken teenagers weren't the same as happy mothers and toddlers. The seal song might not affect adults at all.

As the final verses of the recording played, the audience remained captivated, but there was no sign of Donal. Oz's tension and disappointment, as well as that of Conan's search crew, practically vibrated the air.

Pippa had argued with herself for days. Weeks. When it came right down to it—she couldn't put all these people, she couldn't put
Oz
, through this intense event, this heartrending expectation, without giving all she had to give.

Even if it meant the end of her privacy and any hope of staying with Oz, Pippa couldn't leave a lost boy out there if she had the power to find him. For once, this wasn't about her.

Watching sharply for any movement in the crowd, finding none, she signaled the sound crew. Prepared, they lowered the recording, and Pippa began to sing into her microphone as she hadn't done for an audience in nine years.

She poured all her own loneliness and fear into her siren Voice. The song bled from her heart, soared through the room, transmitting her heartbreak and isolation directly to her audience.

After the first few minutes of astonishment, children leaped from their seats and raced for the stage, just as if she were the Pied Piper. Mothers shouted and chased after their toddlers. Conan's crew formed a security guard at the foot of the stage.

Someone shouted, “Syrene!” Pippa caught the flash of a camera. She continued to sing, searching for the one little boy who meant the most. Cell phones emerged, capturing the moment as children scrambled around the guards, leaving their mothers helplessly in the audience. Still no Donal. Would she even recognize him?

The film and the music would be instantly flooding the Internet. It wouldn't take long for rumors to fly. The media would be on it within an hour. Her anonymity was shattered.

Pippa continued to sing, unleashing her siren call with all the power in her, praying one of the children scrambling to the stage was the one they wanted.

She touched their hands as they gathered around her, studied their faces, tousled their hair, and pointed at the floor, where they obediently sat cross-legged. She continued scanning the last of the children escaping the audience as she sang, praying hard for the right one.

A dark-haired boy with suspiciously light roots and wearing heavy glasses fought through the crowd of mothers to race up the stairs. Pippa's voice stumbled upon seeing the familiar cinnamon-brown eyes behind the glass. Then the elation of recognition escaped, and her Voice soared with joy. She reached out to him, and he grabbed her hand with an Oswin smile. She shivered with triumph and rejoiced.

She hauled the boy into her lap and hugged him tight. She heard a frightened shout from the audience as she finished the last notes. Conan's security guards closed in on the foot of the stage. Pippa didn't look away from the little ones at her feet.

The boy wrapped his short arms around her as if he'd never let go. Her heart took him in, loved him, and sheltered him. He looked so much like his father! She wished she dared turn to see Oz's face, but she had to stay focused. Tears filled her eyes as she slowly rose with children clinging to her clothes and cell phone flashes popping all over the auditorium.

Wild clapping filled the air, filled her soul. The shouts were louder now, closer. Pippa briefly closed her eyes against the fear, but Conan's security guards were leaping to the stage to surround her.

The curtain dropped before the applause was done, and suddenly Oz was there, reaching out, crying his son's name.

The boy shouted “Daddy!” and almost leaped from Pippa's arms.

It was going to be all right.

Tears washing down her cheeks, she helped usher the children around the curtain, back to their mothers. She didn't know why these children had responded to her song, if they were lost like Donal. She couldn't linger to interview the parents, as much as she might like to do so. She wasn't qualified to choose who belonged where.

A loud argument and scuffle broke out in front of the curtains, warning she needed to flee. Pippa hoped Conan's security was capturing a kidnapper, but she couldn't wait to find out. Uniformed policemen rushed Oz and Donal backstage. Someone had called in official reinforcement.

Guards prevented curiosity seekers from slipping past the curtains. The crew was needed elsewhere. Left alone, Pippa calmly lay her hat on the chair. She unpinned the mic and removed the beads and then stripped to the peach tank top and biker shorts she'd worn under her skirt earlier. Producing her ball cap and glasses from her bag, she strolled through the mob backstage, unnoticed in the excitement, creating a bubble of invisibility with her tuneless humming.

Outside, when she was almost safe, a burly man rushed up to her, shoving a microphone at her face and shouting about Syrene. As Syrene, she would have panicked and shrieked until he'd groveled at her feet.

But that wasn't who she was now. Nearly petrified that she'd been discovered and would soon be mobbed, Pippa still kept her cool and didn't scream. Clamping her mouth shut, she used the self-defense tactics Park had taught her, disarming the microphone with the swing of her arm and then kicking sideways while her victim was off guard.

The man tumbled to the ground, holding his crotch. She wished she'd known that maneuver when the paparazzi had surrounded her. Heart pounding, she jogged for the street, scanning the parked cars for her mother's nondescript white rental.

She'd done it. She'd performed and escaped the mob without notice. She'd feel relief later, once the paralysis of fear wore off.

Police cars were still arriving. Trying to still her racing pulse, she hummed as she passed officers rushing for the entrance. Like the crowds on Saturday, they gave her a wide berth. Control was the key.
No
panic, Pippa
, she told herself.

Spotting the rental, Pippa increased her pace. Oz would be tied up with police and the school and whatever was happening back there. She wished she could be part of it, could hold his hand, admire his gorgeous little boy, and hum them into relaxing. But she'd done her part. She wasn't needed here any longer. For everyone's safety, Syrene had to disappear again.

It didn't matter that it broke her heart to do so. Her love was strong enough to endure the pain.

Her mother struggled out of the front seat to hug her when Pippa reached the road. “Did they find him?”

Pippa nodded. “He's a beautiful little boy. They'll be fine. Let's go.”

Gloria wiped the tears on Pippa's cheeks, studied her sadly, and then nodded. “I wish it could be otherwise,” she whispered.

There wasn't anything Pippa could say to that. Leaving her heart behind, she stuck her key in the ignition and eased the car onto the road.

***

Holding Donal, letting him play with the Transformer while smiling like a demento and firmly rejecting anyone who suggested taking his son away, Oz searched the crowd for Pippa. He'd hoped she would be here by his side while he struggled with the police, waited for his lawyer, and reassured his crew. The terrified nanny had stopped screaming a moment ago.

He lifted a questioning eyebrow at Conan when his brother arrived, but the geek merely shrugged and insinuated himself into the crowd around the nanny his security held.

Facts and small details were beginning to emerge from Heidi's stumbling protests, but Oz wanted them all written up in a paper file he could study later. Right now, he couldn't concentrate on stories or guilt. He wanted to take Donal out of here and find Pippa and go home. He didn't care what home as long as it contained his son and Pippa.

When a newspaper reporter showed up at the same time that his son started searching for the pretty lady singer, Oz knew it was time to leave. Justice rolled too slowly. Pippa and his son were more important than kidnappers or revenge.

Cops objected to his removing the boy, but Conan's staff intervened. Oz's lawyer showed up right behind the reporter, adding another layer of security. Oz eased out of the crowd, placing Donal on his shoulders and telling him to yell if he saw the pretty lady.

The kid got into the search, but no one had seen Pippa.

Oz found her hat and shirt laying across the chair, and his heart sank. Like a chameleon, she'd slipped into new colors. She was gone. He knew she was gone. Had known she would leave from the first shout of
Syrene!
in the audience. But he had hoped… She had given up her anonymity for Donal. He wasn't allowed to ask for more. He thought he might choke on his grief and fear for her.

Nick arrived to tickle Donal under the chin. “My boys are eager to see you again, kid. Glad to have you back.”

Donal smiled shyly and buried his face in Oz's hair.

Nick grew solemn and removed a sealed envelope from his pocket. “Pippa said to give you this. Are you going to explain what happened here today?”

“Pippa worked magic,” was all Oz said, trying not to stare at the note in horror. He tucked it into his shirt pocket, refusing to reveal his desperate need to open it.

“Don't give me that
Pippa
bit,” Nick scolded in the tone of an old friend. “I've kept my cool and played with a straight face, but no one else in the world has that voice. With the hounds baying at the door, I suppose the note means she had an escape route planned? Was this Syrene's leap back to the limelight? Am I looking for a new reader for the next show?”

“I told you to have an understudy lined up,” Oz said wearily. “Bring Audrey in. And no, this isn't anyone's leap back to the limelight. The exact opposite, in fact, so keep what you think you know under your hat, will you? I need to see that she's all right.”

Nick scowled, but he stepped back, blocking all the other people crowding around with questions, allowing Oz to escape.

Pippa was tall and should be watching, preparing to make the break with him. He didn't see her bright orange-red hair anywhere.

“Where's Heidi?” Donal asked as they walked into the desert warmth of an almost-April day without any sign of Pippa anywhere.

“Heidi needs to talk to some people.” And fight a kidnapping conviction. Explaining to his son what happened to the nanny might take creativity that Oz didn't possess. He needed Pippa's reassuring voice and presence. The letter burned in his pocket.

“Where's your favorite place to eat?” he asked as Donal's face began to crumple. The kid had already lost a mother. Losing the woman who had been his substitute mother for years would be devastating. Were five-year-olds too young for therapy?

The boy brightened again. “McDonalds!” he crowed. “I wanna kids' meal and a chawklit milkshake.”

“I can do that, big boy.” Vowing to eat a steady diet of Big Macs if that's what it took to make his kid happy, Oz set the boy in the back of the BMW while he produced the child's seat from the trunk.

He didn't have another nanny lined up. He would have to learn to do all these everyday things on his own.

His head was a whirl of giddy relief that he had Donal back and his son seemed to be fine, fear that he couldn't do this on his own, and distraction at Pippa's flight.

With Donal strapped into his seat and playing with familiar toys, the CD player turned on to his favorite songs, Oz stole a moment to rip open the letter.

It smelled of roses. It was as brief as Pippa was laconic.

I owe you for my life and my mother. I hope finding your son pays back some of what I owe. I can't repay you with the grief Syrene would cause. Have a happy life and know that somewhere in the vast wastelands of America, a Malcolm loves you.

Oz wanted to ball up the paper and fling it across the car. Instead, he carefully folded it and returned it to his pocket. Maybe it would make more sense later, when he was in better control.

A
Malcolm
loves
you?
The woman was crazed. But he'd known that going in.

His Bluetooth buzzed, and with a sigh, Oz clicked it on.

“The media is breaking down the door,” his receptionist in L.A. cried frantically. “What does Syrene have to do with us?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Tell them they heard an old recording. Tell them I'll be available for interviews tomorrow. Tell them I've found my son and that's today's news.”

His receptionist cried in joy but was cut off by loud voices in the background. Oz decided it would be best not to return to L.A. until after dark.

Pippa was right. All hell was about to break loose. She was better off disappearing if she didn't want to return to that life.

He'd need the nanny's story to see if being a Malcolm really was dangerous. It might be best if he kept Donal hidden a while longer.

Not daring to turn off the phone in case Conan had an urgent message, Oz steered the BMW out of the lot, wondering where to go after McDonald's.

Wondering if he could find Pippa and have a wonderful life with a hardheaded, slippery Malcolm or if he had to go on only half living.

He checked the mirror to see his son and verified that retrieving him was worth losing his heart and soul.

Chapter 35

Gloria stood in front of the hotel window overlooking the carnival lights of Las Vegas and shook her head. “Disney World for adults?” she suggested. “I've never seen anything like it.”

Which told Pippa of all the things Gloria had missed while trapped in a nursing home or hiding in Mexico. Her mother had lost half her life. That could be rectified, if she wanted it. Pippa set down their suitcase and looked around for the television remote.

“I'm not certain the people who need bright lights and noise for amusement are exactly adults, but close enough.” Collapsing on the luxurious bedcover, Pippa flipped on CNN—the place where Vegas-like adults got their entertainment news, she figured.

Sure enough, there it was. Callers were giving their opinion on whether or not the mysterious singer for the new TV kids' show could actually be Syrene, the missing rock star.
Oh
right, like that was earthshaking vital news.
The story came accompanied by tinny sound, blurry videos of her hat, and images of children clambering onto the stage.

The story shifted to the news that five-year-old Donal Oswin, the subject of a national search a year ago, had been returned to his father after being kidnapped by the nanny. Lots of Nancy Grace wild speculation as to the whys and wherefores of his appearing during the television performance, light on facts. Maybe the morning papers would tell her something she didn't know.

Pippa switched off the channel, smothering the ridiculous desolation she felt at seeing Donal's happy face flash across the screen. He had been riding Oz's shoulders, but the photo had only caught Oz's tousled blond hair and the crinkle of his brow—probably with laughter. She wished she could be a fly on the wall when they returned home. She wanted to share their happiness, if only for a brief few minutes.

“Call him,” Gloria urged, turning away from the window. “There's no reason to break it off so abruptly.”

Pippa gestured at the television. “I'm the subject of national speculation right now. You want Oz to lie in front of Nancy Grace and tell her he has no idea where I am? Or worse yet, why Donal came running when I sang?”

“We need to hear the nanny's story,” Gloria persisted. “Maybe there's a simple explanation, and you can let him know you'll return as soon as the uproar dies down.”

“Syrene will never be invisible,” she reminded her mother. “I'll get in touch when they've had time to sift through facts and lies,” she promised. “In the meantime, want to explore Vegas nights or wait until morning?” She tried to sound upbeat, as if this were only a temporary break, a vacation.

But even she doubted her decision to leave. Was running away the right route for the person she was now? After driving across the desert, weeping inside, she didn't feel in the least triumphant for having escaped again, like she had the first time. She had a nagging suspicion that running away wasn't helping at all. She simply knew that Syrene couldn't lead a normal life, and Donal deserved one.

Syrene hadn't crippled the obnoxious reporter. Pippa had. That had felt good.

“I don't think Vegas is my kind of place,” Gloria said with a sad smile. “After all these years, I don't know how to roam. Let's figure out where we're going tomorrow.”

Tomorrow and tomorrow into eternity. Pippa guessed it was better than the alternative, but she was starting to question that—for both of them. Her mother needed a home, a place she felt safe. Pippa had a home she loved and didn't want to give up. Did abandoning those out of fear make sense? Was hiding from those she loved what she wanted?

It had been the right thing to do when she'd been eighteen, terrified, rootless, and heartbroken. She wasn't that abandoned child any longer. She was strong now. She was learning control—of herself and those who would harm her. She had friends who were counting on her and who would keep her from harm if they could.

She would be an idiot to run away from the only man she could be herself with.

Pippa didn't want to be a helpless, terrified idiot again. Hope wiggling its way into her heart, she switched to another station and saw Oz staring right into the camera while hugging his son. The stunned, grieving look behind his smile twisted a knife to her heart. She was an idiot.

She dragged out her laptop and turned it on. First, she needed to know her mother would be safe. That knowledge warmed her with joy. For the first time in her worthless life, she realized she wasn't alone, that she had people she could trust, and that she was needed.

***

Lizzy glanced up in surprise when Oz stalked into the Blue Bayou the next morning.

“I need to use your bar for a news conference. Is that okay?”

She wiped the bar and watched him warily. “Where's Pippa?”

“Running away. I need to get her back.” Oz scanned the setup through his producer's eyes and began shifting tables and chairs as if Lizzy had already agreed. “The media will be arriving shortly. Get pizzas ready.”

“If this is how you talk to Pippa, it's a wonder she hasn't flung you off a cliff.” Lizzy put her rag back under the bar.

“Pippa knows not to argue when I'm desperate. You want my crew to keep working up here?” Oz straightened and glared back at her.

“Where's your little boy?” Lizzy didn't move.

“At the day care. I've got a security team working with them.” He glanced out the newly sparkling window. “News vans can't park in this narrow alley. One's already pulling up on Main Street. Are you calling up the pizzas or not?”

Lizzy started to open her mouth, apparently saw the desperation in his expression, and turned around to yell an order at her cook. The cook yelled back, unprepared for an early lunch crowd. Oz ignored the byplay.

He opened the door for his sound crew, showed them where they could run cable for their generators, orchestrated the production, and made things happen, as only he knew how. He wasn't an actor. He wasn't a publicity freak. He didn't give speeches.

To get Pippa back, he'd have to be all of the above. And be damned good at it.

He knew how to give sound bites, but this time, he'd promised the media an entire interview. He'd stayed up all night working with Conan and a speech writer. What he needed was a fiction writer, like Pippa. She could convince a bull to sit down and drink tea from a china cup, he was certain.

Convincing Pippa to come home might be equally difficult. If he had any of the persuasive talent of an empath, he'd best put it to use now.

Audrey, the understudy, arrived, along with Nick Townsend and the show's publicity director. They'd all been hastily coached this morning. Oz knew he should have waited until tomorrow to perfect the act, but he didn't want Pippa to get too far away.

He was running on hope and nothing more. He had his son back, but it wasn't enough. He was a greedy bastard, but Donal deserved more than an empty shell of a father.

“Am I serving beer?” Lizzy asked, bringing out mugs.

“Soft drinks, water. This crowd doesn't need alcohol at this hour,” Oz said, scraping tables out of the way. “Charge me for renting the building for the day.”

“Bring Pippa back, and the pizzas are on the house,” Lizzy retorted.

“My wife concurs,” Nick said dryly, holding onto a microphone while the crew set up a podium. “She wants to know if you were sitting on your head instead of using it when you let her go.”

“Dammit all!” Oz shouted. “I've known her less than three weeks! What did you want me to do, put a collar and chain on her?”

A television crew walked in, cutting off any reply. Besides, Oz already knew the answer. He should have told Pippa he would run and hide in Outer Mongolia with her if that's what she needed to feel safe. She'd returned
Donal
. She'd given up her privacy and security for his son. He'd stayed up what remained of the night after his staff left, watching the boy sleep, just to be certain he was real. He'd cried. For the first time in his adult life, Oz had wept like a child.

He owed Pippa his life. And she thought she owed
him
? They were both nuts. Or incapable of relating on a normal basis, at least—but they understood each other at the most important levels.

What he was about to do wouldn't fix the way they connected, but he hoped it would fix a lot of other things he'd broken in his bullheaded haste to have what he wanted.

Publicity hung a blow-up poster of Donal waving at the camera. Oz wasn't about to subject the kid to the media, but the world deserved to see his happiness, to know that this year of searching and praying hadn't been wasted.

As the tavern filled to capacity with equipment and reporters, Oz gestured for Audrey to take a place behind Lizzy's bar. Audrey had had her hair cut short and dyed like Pippa's, not that anyone yesterday would have seen much underneath the hat. But he wanted the illusion out there, a public face that wasn't Pippa.

She wore Pippa's bright red lipstick and a loose sundress with a gauzy shirt over it. Pippa was about the same height and slenderness, without Audrey's breast enhancement. The camera couldn't tell through the loose clothing.

Oz wished Pippa was here if only to calm the noisy crowd. Reporters who knew him were already shouting questions. He shook his head and waited for Nick to test the microphone. Ignoring requests that he wait for cameras to be positioned or lights turned on, Oz stepped up to the podium as soon as Nick introduced him. He wanted this over. This was just one tiny inkling of what Pippa would endure should she return right now. He had to show her that he understood that.

He thanked everyone for coming, thanked everyone who had aided in Donal's search, referred to the handouts publicity had prepared with the facts about the kidnapping—the ones that were public information. He needed to talk to Pippa about the rest. The police didn't need to know about Malcolms and the Librarian, not yet.

With a solid ground of verifiable facts and information laid, Oz stepped into fabrication territory. “I'd like to introduce the star of our new children's show, Audrey Ephraim. Some of you may recognize her from the stage production last year of
Wicked
. She's a talented actress, singer, and dancer, and we're very fortunate to have her. Audrey, would you step forward?”

Questions flew. Oz could see the journalists didn't want to believe they'd been misled. Syrene returning would be a story they could work for weeks. Years. It would be like Elvis returning from the dead. When the questions got louder and more demanding, forcing Audrey to give up and look to him, Oz did what he did best—made things happen.

He nodded at the sound crew, and the music from “The Silly Seal Song” began to play. Recognizing her cue, Audrey smiled and began to mouth the words. Another speaker fastened discreetly in the pocket of her shirt kicked in so it sounded as if Syrene's voice was coming from her. The reporters stood there, dumbfounded, as Audrey gestured like Syrene
,
lip-synching.

Movie magic.

***

Sitting in the Little Angels day care with Donal on her lap, Pippa smiled at the computer video Conan had hooked up to the press conference.

“Look, your daddy does magic too,” she whispered in the boy's ear.

Most of the other kids had wandered off to finger paint, but Donal sat enraptured. “That's not you,” he crowed, understanding without communicating clearly.

“Nope, I'm Pippa. I like staying home and singing. Audrey likes going on stage and singing.”

“I like your song. Heidi played it for me. The Librarian gave it to her.”

One more clue to her layers of knowledge. Pippa bounced him up and down. “I sang that song just for you,” she said, reassuring the boy as best as she could over the loss of his nanny.

He puzzled over that while the reporters in the video began shouting about the previously unknown Syrene recording. Dogs with their teeth in a bone wouldn't let go, Pippa observed, marveling at how well Oz was dealing with the hounds, wondering how he intended to settle this little problem. Her life pretty much depended on him waving a magic wand and making Syrene disappear. If he couldn't, she'd have to consider running again. But she was trusting the man she loved to solve this problem. She'd been tragically wrong before. This time, she prayed her trust wasn't misplaced.

On the monitor, Oz replaced Audrey at the podium. “Ladies, gentlemen, if I had a good explanation for the song that started all this, I would give it to you. The truth is—
we
don't know
. The recording arrived via an anonymous email that FBI experts have been unable to trace. We were told to play the song in Bakersfield. As you all know, that's Syrene's hometown. Perhaps it was an old song recorded when she lived there as a child. We simply don't know who sent it or why. Your guess is as good as ours.” He waited a moment for the shouts to quiet.

“Originally, we'd hoped to have Ms. James, the author of the Ronan book, read her books for the show,” he continued, “but once we had the song, she declined. She's neither actress nor singer, and we needed both for this performance. Audrey filled in perfectly.

“All I can tell you is that this song brought back my son, and I am eternally grateful to Syrene, if this is truly her work. Thank you for coming, and you may send any unanswered questions to my office. You'll understand that my son and I need some time alone, and I will be out of touch for a while.”

Watching the webcam, Donal wriggled in Pippa's lap. “I missed my daddy,” he said. “Heidi said he was dead like my mama. He's not going away again, is he?”

The poor kid thought he'd been abandoned. Pippa hugged his grubby, paint-scented little boy body. “I am one hundred percent, a-posititutely certain that he's not likely to let you out of his sight for far longer than you'll like.”