Strangers in Paradise (40 page)

She shrugged him off.

“We had a daughter,” he said woodenly. It didn't make sense. Wasn't real.

Cassie nodded. Her head bowed as she cried softly.

“Where is she?”

Cassie looked up then, and the agony in her eyes reverberated inside him. Somehow, he was responsible for this.

“Shall I take you to her, Sam?” she asked, tears pouring freely down her face.

Not in all his years of dealing with tragedies had he felt such utter despair.

“Please,” he said slowly. Wherever his daughter was, he wanted to be with her. Wanted to share her with Cassie.

Shoulders slumped, Cassie walked slowly back to her car, climbed in and turned on the ignition, waiting only until Sam had shut the passenger door before shooting off down the drive.

Where was she, this child of his? Was she in a hospital, an institution? Where was she that, without any warning, they could go and see her after ten o'clock at night?

A horrible, logical possibility lodged itself in the back of his mind, but Sam couldn't acknowledge it.

“What's her name?” he asked, staring out the windshield, not blinking.

“Emily.”

He could tell that talking was difficult for her, so he just let her drive, his mind scrambling furiously to work out what might lie ahead. And how he could somehow help them both through this. How he might make up to Cassie for whatever hell he had left her to deal with all alone.

When she made the second turn on a country road he recognized, Sam's throat closed up. His chest was so tight, he couldn't breathe. But that was okay. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

He knew, before she turned, where they were going. He watched her take the curves of the cemetery road without slowing.

The car stopped suddenly, and Cassie got out, stumbling as she approached the tiny headstone. Sam was beside her without even realizing he'd gotten out of the vehicle.

He read the small stone.
Emily Carol Montford.
After Cassie's mother. And his. Emily was born five months after Sam left home. And died a month later.

Pain seared through him.

“After you left, I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep.” Cassie started to talk, each word laced with a despair so deep he knew she'd never be free of it. And with each word, Sam wished he was dead, too.

“Nobody suspected I was pregnant, at first. Including me. I'd lost track of days and weeks. Upset as I was, missing a period was to be expected. But then I started getting sick to my stomach every time I ate. For a long time the doctor thought it was stress, but when it got to the point where I couldn't keep anything down, she did a pregnancy test. I was almost four months along by then. I'd had no real nutrition for two months. No rest. No vitamins...”

She was trembling, her arms wrapped around her middle. Sam wanted to haul her into his own arms and shelter her.

He was afraid to touch her.

“I tried to take better care of myself after that. Quit school, made myself stay in bed as much as possible—but that just gave me more time to think. And I still couldn't keep much food down. For a while, they had me on an I.V. at home. That seemed to help, and I gradually gained back a little of the weight I'd lost....”

Bile rose in Sam's throat. While he'd been out finding himself, his wife had been home fighting death.

Jaw clenched, he felt as though he'd been carried off in a sea of anguish so treacherous, he knew he was never going to be the same again.

“I was seven-and-a-half months along when I started to hemorrhage.” She stopped, swallowed. Wiped her nose and eyes with a tissue she'd brought from the car.

She handed one to Sam. Until that moment he hadn't known he was crying.

“It all happened very quickly after that. They did a cesarean, took Emily. She was beautiful....” Her voice broke completely, and Sam had to touch her, pull her into his arms, cradle her against his heart.

“I'm so sorry,” he choked. “God, Cassie, I'd rather be dead myself....”

She lifted her head, but didn't draw away. “Her lungs weren't fully developed, but they thought she had a fighting chance,” Cassie told him. “She had a strong heart.”

She had to stop again. Took a couple of gulps of air. “I was in bed for the first few days because of the C-section—”

“I didn't notice any scarring.” Sam hung everything on that point. Surely he'd have noticed a C-section scar on Cassie's smooth belly.

“It's right in the bikini line,” she told him. “They made a big deal of telling me at the time that it wouldn't show. As if I cared...”

The anguish just kept growing. His young, beautiful wife, barely beyond childhood herself, having to face such a tragedy.

Alone.

Because of him.

Turning back to the headstone, Cassie bowed her head, crying harder. But she stayed close to Sam. He didn't deserve that sweet torture. He deserved to be as utterly alone as she had been.

“By the third day, they couldn't keep me away from her,” she whispered hoarsely. “I was with her every minute after that. They tried to get me to go home, but I wouldn't leave the hospital. Not once that entire month.”

“How big was she?” Sam asked, remembering Mariah's birth. The squalling, kicking seven-pound bundle of health and joy that she'd been.

“Just under five pounds.”

Small enough to fit in his palm. Less than a bag of sugar. A tear dripped off Sam's chin.

He stared at the headstone, as if he could somehow picture the child who'd lived for such a short time. The child he would now never see.

“Could you hold her?”

Cassie nodded. “Every day. I fed her, helped bathe her, changed the pad under her little bottom...”

Cassie broke down completely then, her legs going limp as she fell against Sam, sobbing out ten years' worth of grief. Somehow Sam supported her weight, his gaze locked on that tiny tombstone.

Cassie was right. They couldn't ever go back.

He could never, in a million years, make this one up to her.

Or to himself.

Chapter 16

C
assie went one better than getting Sam the phone number of her client, the collie breeder. Mrs. Stonethaler had had a cancellation on one of the puppies and was delighted to have Cassie bring a potential buyer out to her home. So, late Tuesday morning, after Cassie had seen to her morning appointments at the clinic, she, Sam and Mariah were in Sam's truck on their way to the Stonethaler ranch. Although the air conditioning was on full blast, it hardly seemed to help. Cassie had taken off the white lab coat she often wore at the clinic, but she still felt hot in her linen slacks and sleeveless silk blouse. Sam didn't look any more comfortable in his denim cutoffs.

Cassie couldn't tell if Mariah was comfortable or not. Her sweet face showed no sign of distress at the nearly one-hundred-degree heat. In her cute pink sundress, with its bows tied at the shoulders, she certainly
looked
cool and composed.

“Are you excited about having a puppy of your own?” Cassie asked the child. When Mariah didn't reply, Cassie continued, infusing her voice with a cheer she was trying very hard to feel. “Mrs. Stonethaler is the owner of the puppies' mommy, and she's a very nice lady. She'd be happy if you could give one of her puppies a home.”

Mrs. Stonethaler raised collies, she told Mariah. Mr. Stonethaler raised Arabian horses. Cassie told Sam he ought to be glad Mariah was only in need of a puppy. An Arabian horse would have cost him thousands of dollars.

Sam nodded, brushed his free hand down Mariah's French-braided hair, and continued to drive.

Cassie fell back into the uneasy silence that had marked their relationship since they'd returned from the cemetery the other night. They'd seen each other in church the next morning, when Cassie had made a point of speaking to an unresponsive Mariah. Sam, his eyes filled with shadows, had merely nodded at her and disappeared.

Today he hadn't once met her eyes. Twice she'd started to speak to him about Emily, then stopped. He'd created such an effective wall between them, it was almost as if he wasn't there.

She should be happy about that. She was finally getting her wish—Sam Montford out of her life.

Except that she didn't feel happy.

Telling him about Emily had brought it all back. The helplessness. The fear. The anger. The guilt.

Unexpectedly, sharing it with Sam had brought her closer to him, reawakening needs, reminded her that Sam was the other half of her heart. With him she'd been able to reason out the ways of the world, make sense of them. Find a way to be peaceful with them.

But when it came to Emily's brief life, her death, there was no peace to find.

Cassie was worried about Sam. After they'd left Emily's grave, he'd shut himself off. It was the first time in her life that Cassie had been with him and completely unable to
feel
him.

It was unsettling. Frightening. As if she'd looked in the mirror and seen a face that didn't belong to her.

Mrs. Stonethaler, after showing them to the nursery, as she called it, in the sun room of her huge home, left them alone with one of the puppies that was, as yet, unclaimed. The mother and other puppies were in a large crate at the other end of the room.

“What do you think, Mariah?” Cassie asked, holding the puppy. “She looks just like Sammie, only smaller.”

Mariah, clutching Sam's hand, was engrossed in the three buttons on the collar of his short-sleeved shirt.

“Has she said anything since Friday?” Cassie asked Sam. She'd wanted to ask him yesterday on the phone, when they'd made today's arrangements, but he'd had to go before she had a chance.

Glancing down at his daughter, Sam shook his head. And then said, “Mariah, don't you want to look at the puppy?” With his hands on her shoulders, he turned the child to face Cassie. “If you like her, you can have her.”

Mariah stared vacantly in front of her, eyes slightly lowered.

Cassie knelt down, until the puppy was at Mariah's eye level. “You have to see if you like her, honey, before we can buy her for you. She needs to know that she's going to a home where she's wanted, or she'll be afraid.”

The child blinked. Her tiny hands squeezed into fists.

Cassie tried to catch Sam's gaze, to see if he'd caught Mariah's response, but he didn't meet her eye.

“Let's sit down and see if the puppy likes us,” Cassie said, pulling Mariah onto the ground with her.

Sam stood back, his expression brooding as he watched them. For a second, Cassie couldn't take her eyes off him. He looked so good to her, standing there. Fit. Sexy. Strong. His legs were defined, his stomach lean and trim at the waist, his chest straining against his polo shirt. Manual labor sure hadn't done anything to hurt Sam in the looks department.

The puppy squirmed in her arms. She'd been gnawing on Cassie's finger—not that Cassie had even noticed.

“You're so cute!” Cassie said, raising the puppy to her face. “Look, Mariah, she has a white spot on her nose.”

Mariah blinked again. Not once had she turned around to look at Sam.

Putting the puppy down, Cassie pushed the wriggling bundle over to Mariah, and then moved back. Again she tried to meet Sam's eyes. Again his focus was solely on Mariah.

With her little butt up in the air, the puppy danced around the child, smelling her hands, tasting her sandal. Then, apparently finding the child acceptable for further inspection, she climbed onto Mariah's lap. Her hands on the floor, the little girl didn't move. The puppy did enough moving for both of them. She licked Mariah's arm. Turned around several times in her lap. Jumped off. And back on.

Mariah blinked again, but sat completely still. The puppy, apparently not offended by Mariah's unresponsiveness, put her front paws on her chest, sniffing her chin. And then she lunged up, grabbing one of the ties to Mariah's dress and tugging hard.

Cassie and Sam both started forward at the same time, intending to rescue the little girl, but before either one of them could reach her, they stopped, shocked by the sound they heard.

Mariah was laughing.

She ceased abruptly, as soon as she heard herself—but it had happened. She'd taken a step forward. There was no going back now.

Cassie's gaze collided with Sam's over the child's head. His were filled with tentative hope. Gratitude. And sorrow, too.

They'd deal with that later. For now, Cassie's stomach relaxed simply because she'd connected with him again.

She'd deal with that later, too.

Motioning to Sam to stay put, Cassie left the puppy on Mariah's lap, until the puppy's exuberant attempt to untie the bows at her shoulders began to succeed and the child finally reached up with one hand to push the puppy down.

She didn't, however, push the dog away.

Cassie had an idea. “Do you want the puppy, Mariah?” she asked.

Mariah froze, as though she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't.

Moving a little closer on the ceramic-tiled floor, she lifted the little girl's chin. “If you want that puppy, she's all yours, but you have to
tell
me you do,” she said seriously. “I need to know she's going to be loved, or I can't ask Mrs. Stonethaler to sell her to us.”

Mariah's hand slid quickly up and down the puppy's back. The child wanted that dog. Cassie's instincts were telling her so.

Which meant it was time to help Mariah help herself. The child had given them enough signs to let them know she was ready. Praying she wasn't pushing too hard too fast, Cassie sat back, letting go.

“I mean it, Mariah. I can't let you have that puppy unless you promise me that you really, really want her.”

Sam stepped a little closer, standing protectively behind the little girl. Cassie couldn't look at him, couldn't be distracted. She had a feeling Mariah was really struggling, that she had things to tell them.

“You don't want to hurt Cassie's feelings, do you, squirt?” he asked, and Cassie breathed a little easier. He was on her side.

The child didn't say anything, but she continued to stroke the puppy's fur. And when the puppy started to squirm away, she reached out her other hand to keep her in place.

Mariah wanted that dog.

Cassie swallowed. Took a deep breath. And plunged in. “Mariah, I know you understand what we're saying to you. I know you can answer us. And I know you want that dog. What I
don't
know is why you won't talk to us. Please, sweetie. Sam and I are the only ones here. We both love you very much and we'll do anything to help, but you've got to talk to us, sweetie. You've got to tell us what's going on so we know what to do.”

When Mariah shook her head, every nerve in Cassie's body tensed. She felt Sam settle beside her, and was a little afraid to have him there.

“Why?” Cassie asked, her throat raw with the effort it took to control her emotions. “Why won't you talk to us, sweetie?”

The child's head moved slowly as she looked up at Cassie. Her eyes were clear, focused. And filled with tears. And then she lowered her head again.

“When I talked, it killed my mommy.”

She'd spoken! Such beautiful sounds. Such unthinkable sentiments. Cassie felt Sam tense beside her, but didn't dare look at him. She had a job to do. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Cassie forged ahead.

“No, honey, don't ever think that,” she said. “Bad men killed your mother. You had nothing to do with it.”

She felt like such a fraud. She hadn't been there. Had only vague reports to go by. God only knows what images the child might be seeing as she stared at the floor.

“Are you remembering things, honey? Things you thought you'd forgotten?”

Mariah shrugged. A tear trickled off her chin.

Sam moved then, pulling his daughter onto his lap, cradling her against him. “I know with all my heart that your mommy and daddy would want you to talk to me. You know that, don't you, Mariah?”

The little girl stared up at him, her big blue eyes filled with tears. She nodded—and then she opened that rosebud mouth and the vile stories started pouring out.

Mrs. Stonethaler, probably wondering what was taking so long, had come back to check on them, but with one look at the situation, merely whispered that they should take all the time they needed. She quietly closed the door as she left them alone.

“They had a big knife, Sam,” Mariah was saying, the words once released coming so quickly that Cassie could hardly understand them. It seemed that now Mariah had decided to break her vow of silence, she couldn't get rid of her thoughts fast enough.

Cassie, stayed in the background, an outsider now. On the one hand, she could hardly believe the miracle of hearing that sweet childish voice; on the other, she was hurting with each word the child uttered.
Precious, precious little girl, you should never have seen such things.

“They cut Daddy and made him bleed, and they hit him and made his eye all puffy and then his mouth was bleeding and he told Mommy and me how much he loved us and he told me to be brave and mind my mommy and they took him away. He couldn't walk good because they kicked his leg and he kept falling...”

Through it all, Sam's expression of warmth and love never changed. He slowly rocked the child, smoothing the hair back from her forehead. Cassie, tears streaming down her face, could only imagine what that control was costing him.

“They took some other people, too, and they went away for a while, and Mommy and me just cried and said how much we loved each other, and Mommy told me we'd see Daddy again real soon, that the men just took him out so I wouldn't see him bleeding while they got a big Band-Aid...”

Mariah's blue eyes were focused on Sam's mouth, her little finger reaching up to touch it. “I knew they weren't going to help him, Sam. They were bad men. But I didn't know about the not-breathing part. When you stop breathing, you
die,
Sam. The bad men hurt Mommy and Daddy because I talked and cried when they told me to shut up and they made them stop breathing, and I'm scared you're going to stop breathing, too....”

Her tirade ended as abruptly as it had begun. Mariah clutched Sam's shirt in her fists and buried her face against his chest.

“No, Mariah,” he said soothingly. “I'm not going to stop breathing.”

“I watch you, Sam. And every time you talk, I can't see your chest go up and down so I don't know if you're going to stop breathing....”

“And that scares you, huh?” Cassie asked, understanding so much now.

Sobbing, the little girl nodded.

Cassie reached over, rubbing Mariah's arm. “Sometimes people you care about die, honey. But then there are other people who love you who'll still be around to help you when you're lonely. They'll go on loving you and living with you and taking care of you. That's how God makes it when someone goes to live with Him.”

Mariah shook her head. “Mommy wasn't there.” The words were muffled against Sam's shirt.

“Wasn't where?” Sam asked, frowning.

“God's house.”

Cassie could hardly make out the words, meeting Sam's look over Mariah's head. What was Mariah talking about?

“People said Mommy went to live with God, but when you took me to God's house to make Grandma happy, Mommy wasn't there.”

Sam's frown cleared suddenly, and he pulled Mariah away so he could look into her eyes. “Church is called ‘God's house' because that's where people go to talk to him, but He doesn't
live
there, honey. He lives up in heaven, and that's where your mommy and daddy are.”

“Are...are they better now? Did they stop bleeding? They don't hurt anymore, do they?”

Sam swallowed hard.

Cassie sensed how urgently Mariah needed to know that her parents were no longer in pain. And she got her first real glimpse of the precocious child Mariah must have been before tragedy shattered her life.