The Escape Artist

A novel by

Diane Chamberlain

Copyright © 2010 by Diane Chamberlain

Cover by Kimberly Killion

Ebook creaton by Dellaster Design

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Originally published by HarperCollins, 1997

THE CLOUD WAS BACK
.

Not in the sky. The evening sky over Boulder was a vivid violet-blue, broken only by a jagged line of gold as the sun fell behind the Rockies. Yet, as Susanna made her way through the cemetery, Tyler in her arms, she felt the cloud over her shoulder, keeping pace with her.

She had endured the cloud’s dark shadow once before, eleven months earlier, when Tyler was born with a damaged heart. It had pained her own heart, seeing her son suffer, knowing she might lose him. She’d suffered along with him, spending day after day in the intensive care nursery, touching his tiny hands through the restricting holes in the side of his plastic bassinet. Talking to him. Singing to him. He was stoic, her little baby. She saw the determination in his face, the fight. He was not a quitter. He had not inherited her propensity for giving up. She hoped she’d learned a thing or two from his bravery.

Tyler’s heart was healthy now. “Nearly good as new,” the surgeon had said. It was the best heart she could imagine. Her son had a gentle, affectionate nature and a laugh that, until recently, had brought tears to her eyes each time she heard it. With all he’d been through, the fact that he could laugh with such abandon renewed her faith.

And Tyler had learned patience. Even while being carried around the cemetery for the past hour, he had not once protested the seemingly fruitless journey. He hung onto her with one arm around her neck, clutching his stuffed monkey, his eyes looking ahead as Susanna moved among the headstones, stopping to read each one. Not names; she didn’t care about names. But she read every date, particularly those on the smaller headstones. It was those small stones that merited her scrutiny. The sort of stone the parents of an infant might select.

Tyler’s downy blond hair brushed lightly against her chin. Soon, he’d be able to walk. She wanted to savor this last month or so, when he still could not explore the world without her.

Tyler finally made a sound of impatience, a whimper, a “Mom, aren’t we through here yet?” sort of sound. With a sigh, she leaned over to set him down in the grass, and he crawled to the nearest headstone and hoisted himself up by it, dancing up and down as if he heard a tune inside his head.

She stood up and stretched, her hands pressed against the small of her back, and the warm breeze wrapped her long skirt around her legs. For the first time since arriving at the cemetery, she let herself look toward the foothills above Chautauqua Park and realized she could see Linc’s house from here. It was nearly in the shadow of the mountains now. A faint wash of fading sunlight lit up one side of the house and gilded the huge satellite dish in his yard, and she felt tears fill her eyes. She wished she could tell Linc her plan, but that wouldn’t be fair to him. Not that the plan itself was fair. She was going to keep her child, but in the process she would lose the man who had been her strength and support for the past two years. For far, far longer than that, if she were honest with herself. How she would get by without him, she didn’t know. This was the first major decision she’d made in years without consulting him. She was not the sort of person who did things entirely on her own, without the advice of friends. She’d never possessed that sort of courage. But she would have to find it now. If she did indeed lose custody of Tyler to Jim and Peggy, she would have to put her plan in action and in so doing never see Linc Sebastian again.

It was so dark by the time she found the small, cold marker that she could barely read the words carved into the stone.
August 16, 1968-September 14, 1968
. Perfect. She read the name.
Kimberly Stratton
.

Susanna sank to her knees near the marker and pulled a small notepad from her purse. She copied the information onto the pad and started to get to her feet again, but something held her down.

Why did this baby die? Less than a month old. She thought of Tyler as a newborn, wounded and fighting. How had that mother felt, losing her baby before she’d even gotten a chance to know her? And who was Susanna to take this baby’s name? This baby’s life? She felt suddenly weighed down with responsibility. She leaned forward, resting her hand on the cool grass above the grave. “I’ll try to do right by you,” she said. “I’ll try to be worthy of having your name.”

She thought she felt something, a current of warmth spreading up her arm, into her chest, but Tyler crashed into her from behind, shaking her from her imagined communion with the child whose name she was stealing.

She gathered Tyler and his monkey into her arms and stood up slowly. The cloud settled around her shoulders again, but she dismissed it with a shake of her head. She had escaped from that cloud once before. She would escape from it again.

“ALL RISE.”

Susanna got to her feet as Judge Browning entered the courtroom and took his seat behind the bench. When she sat down again, she was barely breathing. The judge looked like Santa Claus, his full beard snowy beneath his ruddy cheeks, but he had shown no inclination toward jolliness these past few days. He was not, in any way, a benevolent presence.

He shuffled the papers on his desk, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room as everyone awaited the decision he’d promised to deliver that afternoon. When he glanced up, Susanna could suddenly see the courtroom through his eyes, and if she hadn’t already guessed his decision, she did then. For a week now, he’d looked out from his bench at the cast of characters in front of him. At the table on his left sat a small, wiry-haired attorney, Ann Prescott, and Susanna, the anxious, pale, overworked, poorly paid, divorced woman who was her client. The client who had spent the month after the breakup of her marriage in a psychiatric ward, threatening to kill herself—and her unborn baby. Ann had brought in the psychiatrist from the hospital to testify that Susanna was well now, that she was a good mother. But that ploy had backfired, only serving to remind everyone of Susanna’s stint as a psychiatric patient.

At the table on Judge Browning’s right sat a dapper, silver—haired attorney and his client, James Miller, an attorney himself and Susanna’s ex-husband. Handsome, sharply dressed without overdoing it, sincerity in his blue eyes. When he answered questions on the witness stand, he would turn and look at the judge, something Ann had encouraged Susanna to do herself. She hadn’t been able to, though. She’d felt frozen on the witness stand, unable to take her eyes off her interrogator for even a second.

Seated directly behind Jim was his wife. Not any wife, but Peggy Myerson, yet another attorney. She was also beautifully dressed. Her smooth dark hair swept her shoulders. It was obvious that she was in love with her husband. She’d lean forward to touch his shoulder, to whisper to him. Right now she was smiling confidently at him as though they both knew these five days had been only a formality. They’d known they would win from the start.

Susanna couldn’t look at Peggy for long. She always felt small and simple around her. Peggy was a woman with whom she could never hope to compete.

And what else did the judge see in this courtroom? Susanna closed her eyes against the images forming in her head. Behind Jim and his lawyer and Peggy, Judge Browning would see Peggy’s older brother Ron, the surgeon who had saved Tyler’s life, and Peggy’s parents, who had been there during every single moment of the hearing. And behind them sat Jim’s sister and mother, women who had once been Susanna’s friends and confidantes. All of them were perched on the edges of their seats, waiting anxiously to hear the fate of the little boy they already thought of as theirs.

Seated several rows behind Susanna, the judge would see only one person: Linc Sebastian, a man known to the community as a convicted murderer turned disc jockey. Linc was the host of a weekly nationally syndicated radio program, and he was something of a cult figure. One of Boulders folk heroes. He’d taken out his earring for this week in court, even though Susanna had told him not to bother. Who was he trying to kid? His blond hair still brushed his collar, and one look at him told you he had chosen a lifestyle somewhere outside the norm. “A man with a questionable past,” Jim’s lawyer had said in describing him, and no one could honestly argue with that assessment.

Judge Browning cleared his throat, and Susanna wrapped her arms across her chest to wait out the inevitable. Her stomach ached, and she was glad she had not tried to eat lunch.

The judge lifted a single sheet of paper from his desk as though he might read from it, but instead, his Santa Claus eyes moved from person to person in the courtroom as he began to speak.

“This court awards custody of Tyler James Miller to his father, James Miller,” he said simply.

Susanna heard Peggy’s squeal of joy and Jim’s laughter. She tightened her grip on her arms until her fingers turned white. She heard someone on the other side of the room whisper the word “congratulations” to Jim.

“Susanna Miller will be allowed visitation every other weekend and one night each week,” the judge continued. “And she is forbidden to have any member of the opposite sex spend the night during those times she has visitation with her son.”

Her cheeks burned as if the judge had slapped her. He stood up and left the courtroom, and Susanna became vaguely aware of Ann Prescott’s hand on her arm.

“They simply had too much in their favor, Susanna,” Ann said. “I’m sorry.”

Susanna pulled her arm away. In those horrible moments when she’d imagined this scene, she’d sobbed. But there were no tears now, only a numbness, a disbelief. They were going to take her baby away from her.

“Let me go see what the plans are,” Ann said, and Susanna could not even acknowledge her as she left the table.

“Sue?”

She turned to find Linc standing next to her. She stood up and barely noticed the red in his eyes before he drew her into an embrace. It was a quick hug, nothing more than that, as if he didn’t want to make a public display of the fact that he was that close to her. “I’m so sorry, Susie,” he said.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out and she sank into her seat again. Linc sat down next to her, holding her icy hand in his warm one. She knew he thought of himself as a major factor in her losing custody of Tyler, but she doubted her relationship with him had made that much difference. As Ann said, Jim and Peggy had too much in their favor.

They had the combined income of two attorneys, which was far more than she could ever hope to achieve as a secretary in a bank. They lived in a big, elegant house in a beautiful neighborhood. Wonderland, the area was called. How could the judge deprive a child of living in a neighborhood called Wonderland? Never mind that Susanna had selected that house. Never mind that the week after she and Jim had moved into it, she’d come home early from a conference to find Jim sharing their bed with Peggy. So Susanna was in the little rental apartment, while Jim and Peggy sprawled out in “their” five bedroom house and erected an elaborate swing set in the back yard for “their” son.