Secrets Rising (32 page)

Though Mary hated to turn loose of her daughter for even a moment, she relinquished her to Brenda. At least she could still see Rebecca, not like when the infant was out of her sight in the nursery. During those agonizing hours, she spent most of her time going up and down the hall to check on Rebecca, reassure herself her baby was still there, still all right.

Mary walked out in time to see Jerry take the small bundle tentatively, as if accepting a priceless, fragile piece of crystal. Not too far off, she thought.

He studied the baby intently, then touched her smooth forehead with one big finger. "Hey, Rebecca! This is your Uncle Jerry. Can you say Uncle Jerry?" He looked up, a wide grin stretching his lips, his eyes full of wonder. "She's beautiful, Mary! You got everything just right."

"Of course she's beautiful," Brenda agreed. "My turn to hold her again."

"You've had lots of turns. This is only the second time I've been here," Jerry protested. "You know what? She looks just like my grandfather."

Mary sat on the edge of the bed, smiling as she watched Brenda and Jerry fuss over Rebecca. If only things weren't so crazy and she could settle down in Plano, near the Pattersons, let them be Rebecca's surrogate aunt and uncle.

But her daughter might not be able to live with her. How far would Charles go to destroy any possible evidence of what he'd done? He'd murdered Ben and tried to murder Rebecca before she was born. There was no reason to think he'd stop just because she was no longer in a womb.

At best, Rebecca would have an erratic existence.

Filled with love! Nobody could love her daughter as much as she did.

Brenda and Jerry loved her baby. Brenda and Jerry Patterson had enough love for everybody, even a stranger who came to their restaurant and fainted.

If she went back to Edgewater, told Charles she'd lost the baby and stayed always in his sight, deliberately led him away from her baby like the killdeer bird who pretended to have a broken wing and lured predators away from her nest, then Charles would stop looking for her child. He'd believe he was safe.

And Rebecca would be safe.

She looked at her daughter, kicking chubby legs as Brenda and Jerry struggled to get the bulky diaper in place.

Did she love her enough to walk away from her, to place her in the care of others to insure that she'd have a good life...that she'd have a life?

Mary licked her dry lips and swallowed around the lump in her throat.

If Brenda and Jerry were willing, she had to do it. She had to leave her child without a backward glance, knowing she'd never see her again, never see her first tooth or her first step, never bake a cake for her birthday or see the wonder on her face at Christmas. If she did this, she could never have any contact with her daughter as long as Charles Morton lived.

Pain, greater than any of her labor pains, knifed through every cell of her body and soul.

She sent the pain away, knowing she couldn't do this if she allowed herself to feel. She'd have to turn her heart to granite, never permit herself any emotion except relief that her daughter was safe and happy.

She walked over to Brenda and took her baby, holding the tiny person, savoring the feel of her soft skin, the blond fuzz on her head, the scent of her, memorizing her perfect features, storing it all away for the empty years ahead.

Rebecca, my precious daughter, I won't be around to watch you grow up and celebrate a good report card or cry with you when you fall and skin your knee, but deep in your heart, in the blood we share, in your blue eyes and blond hair that came from me, in every cell of your body that developed from mine, I'll always be there and I'll always love you.

Chapter 23

Back in Dallas, Rebecca drove from the car rental place to her condo, pulling into the covered parking area behind the units. The complex, a small, quiet one comprised of renovated two-story apartments in the older Oak Lawn area close to downtown Dallas, had a dignified, gracious feel. Large live oak and magnolia trees provided privacy as well as shade.

Moving slowly, as if uncertain of where she was going, she entered her unit through the kitchen door. Though she'd left the air conditioning set on low, the place had a closed-up, uninhabited odor. The familiar two-bedroom dwelling, decorated in subdued southwest style, seemed large, empty and unfamiliar. The silence rang loudly in her ears.

Upstairs in her bedroom, she tossed her suitcase onto the king size bed which seemed to mock her with the huge, unused spaciousness. The motel bed she and Jake had shared had been a small double and more than big enough for the two of them.

The ache she'd been fighting ever since she'd left Jake in Edgewater threatened to overpower her. If her world had crashed around her before, now that crash was doubled.

She'd give anything to have her parents back, to run to Plano and have the man and woman who'd raised her to comfort her and make her laugh. To love her and always be there for her.

Leaving the suitcase unopened on her bed, she pulled an overnight bag from the closet and filled it with clean clothes. She couldn't stay here tonight, couldn't sleep in that large, sterile bed or go downstairs to that subdued, sterile living area. She'd spend the weekend in Plano, reestablish contact with all the years she'd become detached from, get a firm footing in the past and then maybe she could go on to the future.

***

Rebecca woke Monday morning in her old room. When she'd asked for time off work, she'd requested two weeks, so she had another week, but she couldn't stay here visiting the past forever. She'd spent the weekend regaining her parents then grieving for their loss and searching for a core of peace within herself.

It was time to leave.

She rose and made her bed, smoothing the faded spread with its floral pattern. Odd that she'd yearned to sleep beneath Doris Jordan's floral spread, completely forgetting that she had her own.

Not really forgetting, she corrected. She'd just seen it so many times that she had ceased to really see it.

She moved about the room, looking carefully at all the familiar, forgotten objects, storing them away to keep as a part of her...the lamp with a cola stain on the side of the shade that was always carefully turned to the wall, the battered chest of drawers, the durable white-painted iron bed frame where she'd gotten her head caught between the bars and screamed bloody murder until her mother had raced in to rescue her.

She touched the cold metal and smiled, remembering how Brenda Patterson had made her laugh with her threats to pour cooking oil in her hair if her head didn't slip through, then had gently maneuvered that head safely to freedom.

"I'm sorry I doubted you, Mom and Dad," she whispered. "I know you loved me, and I love you. And I miss you something awful. If only you were here, you'd know the exactly right thing to say to explain why those people acted so strange, why the woman who gave me to you didn't want me."

They'd even be able to explain Jake.

Not that she needed to have Jake explained. She understood him only too well. He'd been upfront with her from the beginning, never pretended to be anything other than what he was, never pretended that their relationship was anything other than temporary.

She smiled as she imagined the way Brenda would come up with something witty and off-the-wall that would somehow put Jake in perspective.

Her parents—Brenda and Jerry—had been very special people. Again she reflected on how lucky she'd been to have them. Whether her birth mother knew it or not, whether she cared or not, she'd done her daughter a big favor in turning her over to people who had the ability to love.

Had her birth mother passed to her the same defective gene that had prevented her from wanting her own child? Would Rebecca be forever looking for love where it couldn't be found? That's what she'd been doing when she'd started searching for her biological parents. That's what she'd been doing when she got involved with Jake. Both were futile endeavors, best forgotten and relegated to the past.

It was almost noon when she left the house.

One day soon she'd have to go through and sort out the furnishings and personal items, decide what to keep and what to give away, finish the job she'd started the day she found the blue dress and the note.

Someday, but not today.

***

As she approached her condo, she noticed in dismay that a fire truck was parked in the street. Had someone had a fire or was it a medical emergency? The units appeared intact, so it couldn't have been a major blaze. She hoped it was a grease fire or something minor, and that one of the complex's elderly residents hadn't had a heart attack...or worse.

Jake appeared out of nowhere before the man could answer. Such a surge of ecstasy swept over her at the sight of him that she had to blink twice to assure herself it wasn't a fantasy or a case of mistaken identity, of her eyes seeing what her heart wanted.

He strode up to her, anger flushing his face but not before she'd seen the concern and fear. He clutched her shoulders and she thought for one soaring moment that he was going to embrace her. With a sinking feeling, she realized that she hadn't progressed very far in getting him out of her system, relegating him to the past.

"Place was full of gas. You left a burner on your cook stove going, and the flame went out. I think we've about got it cleared, but you ought to leave all the doors and windows open and your fan going the rest of the day. Might even want to sleep downstairs tonight. Gas rises. And in the future you sure need to be more careful, ma'am. If you'd been home, you'd be dead."

The fireman walked away, and Rebecca looked at Jake as horror slowly spread over her. "I didn't turn on my range," she said, her mouth dry. "I walked past it when I came home Saturday. It wasn't on and I didn't touch it."

Jake nodded. "I know. Let's go inside. We've got some things we need to talk about."

Jake knew he had to sit down soon. He'd never before realized that it was possible to become physically weak from emotion overload.

Saturday night when he first began calling Rebecca and she didn't return his calls, he hadn't been overly concerned. But by Sunday he'd become worried, then frantic this morning when she still hadn't responded. He'd driven across town to her condo, rung the bell, pounded on the door and broken it down when she didn't answer.

Finding her home full of gas had sent him into complete panic. He'd raced from room to room looking for her...for her body...until he found the unopened suitcase on her bed. Then he'd worried that she'd been kidnapped.

He forced himself to turn from her, from drinking in the sight of her in hungry gulps, reassuring himself that she was there and safe.

He stepped into her condo, not because he had any reason to go in but simply to try to get away from his own feelings.

She followed. He could feel her presence behind him as if she were physically touching him. As he stepped inside her living room, the scent of summer flowers trailed in and out of the lingering foul odor of natural gas.

"This is getting to be a habit with you," Rebecca said, and he turned to see her examining the splintered frame where he'd kicked in the front door.

"I'll fix it. Won't take an hour."

She wrinkled her nose. "Let's sit out here on the step for a while. It smells awful in there."

"Nothing like what it was when I got here a couple of hours ago." He came out, sank down on the concrete step beside her and plucked a blade of grass. Folding the grass, unfolding it, rolling it up and unrolling it, gave him something to do with his hands rather than pulling her to him and touching every inch of her body to reassure himself she was still here the way he'd been able to do after she'd nearly drowned.

"Where were you this morning?" he demanded. "Where have you been all weekend? I called several times trying to get hold of you to tell you about Charles."

"I went to my parents' house in Plano. What about Charles?"

That was good, referring to the Pattersons as her parents. That meant she really was over her obsession to find her birth parents. She'd slipped back into her slot, would carry on as though the past week had never happened. And so would he.

As soon as he figured out how to end what they'd stirred up in Edgewater, as soon as he knew for sure she was safe.