Baby, Come Back (13 page)

She squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear easing from the corner of her eye and rolling down her cheek. Why had her mother come back into her life? Why now, when she and Hayes had rediscovered each other? Why when she had been feeling so confident and capable? When she had so much to prove to him?

It was as if her past had popped up to mock her for her feelings of self-worth and self-confidence.

Acknowledging exhaustion, Alice pushed away from the door. Tomorrow, she would call Maggie. Her perpetually positive foster mother had always had the ability to bring her out of herself, had always provided an understanding and loving shoulder.

Yes, Maggie would help her put her mother's reappearance into perspective. Because of her own background, Maggie would understand Alice's feelings better than anyone else.

Soothed by the thought of talking to her foster mother, Alice headed for bed.

* * *

Alice didn't call Maggie the next day or the next. Every time she picked up the phone, she found an excuse not to mention her mother's call. It was almost as if, in her heart of hearts, she believed that if she ignored the situation, it would go away.

Her feelings of uncertainty over her and Hayes's relationship didn't go away. If anything, in the days and weeks that passed since that evening at her house, Alice's sense of fatalism grew. She and Hayes continued to see each other, continued to be lovers, yet their time together lacked emotional intimacy.

Hayes distanced himself from her, and she felt that distance keenly. Physically they were as close as two people could be, yet in almost every other way a wall separated them, solid and impenetrable. And the wall seemed to grow every day.

Alice stood in a patch of sunlight that tumbled through her kitchen window. She checked her watch, acknowledging that she and Sheri would be late, but also that it didn't really matter.

She turned away from the sunny window. Hayes never talked about his feelings for her—if indeed he had any—never talked about the future, never of love.

Because they had no future together. Because he didn't love her.

He never would.

Alice flexed her fingers in frustration. Every moment she and Hayes spent together reminded her of past moments spent together. She sensed in him an almost trapped feeling, like a cornered animal searching desperately for a way out of its predicament.

She'd sensed the same thing in him twelve years ago, right before she'd lost the baby and he had ended their relationship.

It was only a matter of time before he ended it again.

With a sigh, she crossed to the kitchen table and the bouquet of spring blossoms at its center. She touched one of the petals with her fingertip. Dewy and soft. Fragile. The way she felt when she was with Hayes.

She dropped her hand. When together, she'd let him know nothing of her feelings; she'd kept their encounters light and unemotional.

It had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. She longed to talk to him, longed to lean on him. To cry and cling and beg.

She longed for his love.

She would never have it.

“I'm almost ready,” Sheri called from the other room. “All I have left to do is my hair.”

“No problem,” Alice answered. “I'll be on the front porch.”

She walked to the front door, out onto the porch, and crossed to the railing. There she lifted her face to the sun. Spring had finally burst into full bloom. The scents and colors of Louisiana in April were everywhere, rich and brilliant; in a matter of days the temperature had gone from pleasant to seasonably warm.

She and Sheri were going to Maggie's for lunch; her foster mother planned to regale them with an account of her and her husband's second honeymoon trip to Paris. Alice smiled. When they'd talked the other day, Maggie had sounded like a love-struck teenager. Royce Adler had to be the most romantic man in the world. And the one most in love with his wife.

Alice's smile faded. She wanted what Maggie and Royce had. She wanted it with Hayes.

Tears gathered behind her eyes and she fought them off. She wasn't certain she wanted to discuss her problems with Maggie. She didn't want Maggie to worry; she didn't want to dampen Maggie's excitement over her and Royce's trip. She wasn't even certain she wanted advice.

Alice curved her hands around the wooden porch railing. Her mother had phoned several times since that first call, but luckily she hadn't been home any of the times and the answering machine had picked up. She'd never returned the calls and that made her feel both cowardly and mean spirited.

The truth was, she didn't want to deal with this. She didn't want to face it.

“Ready.”

Alice turned. The teenager wore a pretty peach-colored maternity outfit they had picked out together the day before. Alice smiled. “You look lovely.”

Sheri lowered her gaze. “Thanks.”

The teenager said it as if she didn't believe the compliment had been sincere. Alice frowned. She had noticed Sheri taking a lot of extra time with her appearance lately. It was almost as if she felt like she needed help to look pretty, now that her pregnancy was showing.

Alice studied the girl from the corner of her eye as they started for the car. The past few weeks Sheri hadn't been happy. Her mood had been subdued, her spirits flagging. Alice hoped visiting Maggie and the kids would lift Sheri's spirits as well as her own.

Sheri's pregnancy was not going well. She fluctuated between feeling energetic and feeling fatigued and nauseated. Ultrasounds had shown that the baby was not growing as quickly as it should, although Dr. Bennett had assured them that not every fetus grew at exactly the same rate. But the doctor was concerned enough that she had prescribed fifty percent bed rest, a minimum of stress and no major physical exertion.

Yet more than the troublesome pregnancy was dampening Sheri's spirits, Alice knew. In fact, she suspected that the stress and uncertainty of the situation was causing some of Sheri's physical discomfort.

They climbed into the car and buckled their safety belts. Alice smiled reassuringly at Sheri. “You okay?”

“I feel fine.”

Which didn't answer her question.
Alice ached at the sadness in Sheri's eyes and wished the girl would open up to her, but for now, she wouldn't push. “Good. Let's go.”

During the drive to Maggie's, Sheri didn't speak. Alice attempted to make conversation, but the teenager refused to be drawn out. Instead she sat with her gaze turned to the side window, worrying her bottom lip.

When they reached Maggie's they were greeted by the sound of children laughing. They stepped out of the car, having to maneuver around a half a dozen bikes and a big red wagon.

Josh, Maggie's eight-year-old, caught sight of them first. He broke free of the group of equally exuberant and sweaty little boys he was playing with and bounded toward her, his face wreathed in a brilliant smile.

“Aunt Alice!”

She answered his smile, squatted and held out her arms. He launched himself into them.

She hugged him tightly, breathing in his little-boy smell, loving him so much she ached. “I've missed you so much. You look like you've grown a foot in these past few weeks.”

He scowled. “Manda calls me ‘shrimp.' And I don't like it.”

She had no doubts about that. She ruffled his blond hair.

“Someday you'll be able to call her ‘shrimp.' I promise. Just wait.”

He narrowed his eyes speculatively, obviously planning his revenge.

Alice hugged him again, then dropped her arms. “I bet you're glad to have your folks home.”

“Oh, yeah. They brought me a neat model of the Eiffel Tower. It even has an elevator.” He wrinkled his nose. “But they only brought Manda a funny hat.”

“That ‘funny hat' is a beret,” Amanda announced, coming up beside them. She stopped and, with all the sophistication and dignity her thirteen-and-a-half-year-old self could muster, looked down her nose at her brother. “All real artists have them.”

“Then why'd they bring you one?”

He stuck out his tongue and Amanda took a threatening step toward her brother. “You'd better watch it, shrimp, or I'll—”

Hoping to avoid a full-scale war, Alice stood and hugged Amanda. She touched her long, dark hair. “You look more like your mother every time I see you.”

“Quit insultin' my mom,” Josh shouted gleefully, earning a glare from his sister.

After the siblings had verbally tussled a few more moments, Alice introduced them to Sheri, then started toward the house, where they told her Maggie waited.

The other woman met them at the door, smiling warmly. She held it open. “Was that my kids I heard bickering?”

“Who else's?” Alice kissed Maggie's cheek.

Maggie sighed. “I'm afraid one of these days I'll find them rolling on the ground, beating each other senseless.”

“Josh is waiting until he gets a little bigger. He wants an unfair advantage.” At Maggie's look, Alice laughed. “They adore each other, and you know it.”

Maggie smiled. “I know. I just wish they'd do it a little more civilly.” She turned her gaze and smile on Sheri, and held out a hand. “You must be Sheri. I've heard so many wonderful things about you. Come in. Lunch is ready.”

Toys were strewn from one end of the elegant old house to the other, and Maggie smiled ruefully. “Excuse our mess. It seems we've become the neighborhood hangout.”

Alice laughed. “And you love it.”

Maggie grinned and leaned conspiratorially toward Sheri. “She's right, crazy as it seems. I'd hate it if my children wanted to play at somebody else's house. What would I do with all the quiet?”

Maggie had fixed shrimp salad stuffed in Creole tomatoes. She served the salads with crusty French bread and sweet green grapes. They ate out on the sun porch, and through lunch, Maggie told them about her and Royce's trip.

As the meal progressed, Sheri became more and more animated. Alice watched the teenager and smiled. Sheri didn't realize it, but she was under the influence of that special Maggie magic. Her foster mother worked it on everyone, from the very young to the ancient, the rich to the poor, conservative to liberal. No one could be around Maggie Ryan Adler and not feel as if bathed in sunshine.

When they finished lunch—topping the salads off with a slice of Maggie's award-winning and sinfully rich chocolate cake—the children came barreling in, demanding giant slices of the cake and ending up stealing Sheri away for a game of Monopoly.

Delighted to spend time alone with Maggie, Alice helped her clear the table. Those quiet moments were like old times, comfortable and reassuring. Everything good in her life, the positive feelings she had about herself and other people, were all on account of Maggie's love.

Alice set the last plate in the sink and turned to Maggie. “I need to tell you something.”

Maggie looked up, immediately concerned, ready to do battle for her charge. She searched Alice's gaze. “By your tone, it sounds serious.”

“My...mother has contacted me. She wants to see me.”

Maggie set the plate she held in her hands carefully back in the sink. “Your mother...wants to see you? After all these years?”

“Yes.” Alice slipped her hands into her trouser pockets, hating the way they trembled. “My dad died. A couple of months ago.”

“I'm sorry.”

Alice lifted her shoulders. “Don't be. He was neither a good father nor a sterling example of humanity.”

“No, he wasn't.” Maggie let out a long breath. “And now that she's alone, she wants to reconnect with her only child.”

“So she said.”

For long moments Maggie remained silent. Then she cleared her throat. “What do you want, Alice?”

“Truthfully?” Maggie nodded. “I want her to go away. I want my life to return to the way it was.”

“Have you told her that?”

“No.” Alice pulled her hands out of her pockets and twisted her fingers together, feeling young, uncertain and apologetic. “It's just that...it's hard, you know. It's...I feel like a bad daughter for not wanting to see her. She wants to pick up where we left off. I feel like I should—”

Bright spots of angry color tinted Maggie's cheeks. “And exactly where is it she thinks you left off? When she was making your life a living hell?” Maggie took a deep breath and held up her hands. “I'm sorry, this is your decision, but it makes me so angry. I'll try to be impartial—”

Alice made a sound that was part sob, part laugh. “No, don't. Be as biased as you want. Everybody needs a champion.”

“Oh, Alice.” Maggie crossed to her and put her arms around her. “I'm sorry this happened.”

Alice hugged her back, almost fiercely. “Maybe she's changed. Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, I'm in the business of personal change. It can happen.”

Maggie brushed Alice's bangs away from her face. “You don't have to see her, you know. You're not under any moral obligation.”

“That's the problem. I'm not so sure that's true.” She drew in a shuddering breath, battling for control. “Besides, I'm not sure she'll give up until I do see her.”

“I don't want you hurt.”

“I know.” Alice drew a deep breath and shifted her gaze to the glass-walled sun room and the riotous spring garden beyond. “There's something else, Maggie.” She turned and met her foster mother's eyes. “I'm involved with someone.”

“Involved?” she repeated, her eyes sparkling. “Like a relationship?”

“I guess.” Alice looked down at her hands. She couldn't bring herself to tell Maggie that the man she was involved with was the same one who had broken her heart twelve years before. Maggie had seen her through that heartache and she would never understand. Just as she had never forgiven Hayes. “Yes.”