Desperately Seeking Dad (13 page)

She, at least, would have found it daunting. But Link seemed unaffected.

He shrugged. “Well, guess I'll let you get back to…whatever it was you were doing.”

He sauntered back out again, and in a moment she heard the front door slam.

She'd opened her mouth to say some conventional words, but Link had gotten out the door before she could muster them.

Mitch shot off the couch. He strode to the window and looked out, as if assuring himself that Link was gone. “Sorry. Link just showed up yesterday. He does that.”

“Not very often, it seems.” She tread warily, not sure of his feelings.

“It's been two years,” Mitch said. “I could see your mind working when you looked at him. You were wondering if he could be Emilie's father.”

“I suppose I was.” That should hardly surprise him, under the circumstances. “I wonder that about every man I meet in Bedford Creek.”

“You don't need to wonder about Link.” His voice was harsh. “I know exactly when he was here last. Two years ago next month, right at Easter.
Wanting me to bail him out of trouble again, like he always does.”

His anger seemed all out of proportion, and she felt her way, unsure what was driving it. Or what she could do to defuse it.

“And did you help him?”

Mitch's frown darkened. “I lent him money again. Although I don't think
lend
is the right word, since he's never repaid a cent. And then I told him it was the last time. That he'd better find someone else to get him out of trouble, because I wouldn't do it again.”

Thoughts tumbled through her mind, most of which were probably better not expressed. “I see.” But she didn't.

“I never figured I'd say that about my own brother. When we were kids, I used to think we'd always be best friends.”

He went silent, and she tried to find the words that would get him talking again.

“I always dreamed of having a brother or sister,” she began. “I imagined it would be the best thing, to have someone to share things with.”

“There wasn't much to share at our house.” His mouth became a thin line. “Except maybe a slap or two when our father had had too much to drink.”

“You tried to protect your brother.” She knew that much without asking. It was in his nature.

“I tried. But Link figured out early how to talk
his way out of trouble. And he did it even if that meant he blamed me.”

Anne could sense the pain he'd felt at his brother's betrayal. “Mitch, you can't still hold him responsible for that. Any kid would—”

He swung toward her. “I don't blame him for that.” The words shot toward her, loud in the quiet room. “I blame him because he's turned out just like our father. I can't understand that, and I don't think I ever will.”

The pain came through in his words so clearly that it pierced her heart. She suddenly saw a younger Mitch, trying to protect his brother and having that protection thrown back in his face.

“No.” She said it softly. “I guess I wouldn't, either.”

For a moment he didn't respond. Then his head jerked in the briefest of nods.

Let me in. Please don't shut me out.
“Have you been in touch with him at all since that last time?”

“No. I didn't expect to hear from him. He'd stay away until he thought I had time to get over it. Until he thought he could hit me up for money again.”

“Maybe he's changed. Maybe he's done some growing up since then.”

He shook his head. “Look, there's no point in rehashing this. Link is the way he is, and I don't figure I'm ever going to change him. I'm just sorry he came in when he did.”

“Because we were kissing?” She smiled, inviting
him to see the humor in it. “That's not so bad, is it?”

“You don't understand.” His face refused to relax. “Link would like nothing better than to embarrass me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why is it embarrassing to be caught kissing someone? You're not hiding a wife in the closet, are you?”

He shook his head stubbornly. “It's not funny. You don't know what he's like.”

“I know what you're like.” She closed the space between them, putting her hand on his arm. It was like a bar of iron. “Link doesn't matter to me, except for the way he affects you.”

“I shouldn't have kissed you, knowing he could walk in at any minute. I should have had more sense.”

Her patience abruptly ran out. She was trying to be reasonable, trying to be on his side, and he just wouldn't let her. “If that's the way you feel about it, maybe you shouldn't have kissed me at all.” She snatched her jacket from the chair. “I think I'd better go.”

He didn't try to stop her.

“F
inish up that homework before you watch television.” Mitch leaned over the history book and notebook Davey had spread out on the kitchen table. “Mrs. Prentice said you're behind in your assignments.”

Davey gave him a rebellious look. He picked up the yellow pencil with an elaborate sigh.

At least there was one person in his life who wasn't arguing with him. Mitch picked up the dish towel and started drying the silverware from dinner. Davey might be unhappy about having someone keep an eye on him while he did homework, but maybe at some level he understood Mitch was doing it because he cared. Mitch hoped so, anyway.

Understanding didn't extend to other people in his life. Anne didn't understand why he felt the way he
did about his brother. As for Link… Who knew what Link understood? How to get his own way—that was all that had ever mattered to him. He didn't care about anything else.

He tossed a handful of spoons into the drawer. Link's return had upset too much. He should be with Anne right now, helping her, mapping out a plan for the adoption hearing. Instead she was so angry she'd probably slam the door in his face if he went over there.

He couldn't blame her for that. He hadn't intended it, but to her it had probably sounded as if he were ashamed of kissing her. Of caring about her.

I didn't mean it.
He tried saying the words in his mind, tried imagining what her response would be.

Nothing encouraging appeared. Instead, he could only see her face the way it had looked earlier—angry, hurt, disappointed.

“You two look busy.” Link's tone made it clear he didn't mean that as a compliment.

Mitch turned toward the doorway. Link's hair was wet from the shower, his shirt and pants freshly pressed.

“Going somewhere?”

“You're not wishing me gone, are you, big brother?”

Aware of Davey's dark eyes watching them, Mitch shook his head. “I already said you were welcome.”
As long as you don't cause trouble.
“I just wondered where you were off to.”

Link swung a leather jacket around his shoulders. “Going to meet up with some of the guys. It'll be just like old times.”

“Not too much like old times, I hope.” Link had run with a rough crowd in high school, and Mitch had no desire to have to arrest his own brother.

“You never did think much of my friends.” A defensive note crept into Link's voice.

Mitch gave him a level look. “I think of them as little as possible. You'd be better off if you did the same.”

“Hey, you've got your friends, and I've got mine. Can't say I ever cared for yours, but maybe your taste is improving. Your Anne's a cut above most of the local talent. You seeing her tonight?”

He should be. “No.”

“Too bad.” Link didn't sound sorry. “Maybe you scared her off. Maybe she'd like to try out a different Donovan brother.”

The plate he was holding clattered into the dish drainer, and Mitch took a step toward his brother. “You leave her out of this, you hear?”

Link lifted a mocking eyebrow. “Little bit of a sore spot there? Hey, don't worry. She's not my type, anyway.” He turned away. “Expect me when you see me.”

Mitch counted to ten, then made it twenty. Nobody could make him madder than Link could. Maybe that was because nobody knew his trigger
spots quite so well. Or enjoyed pushing them quite as much.

He turned back to the table, to discover Davey was gone. The history book still lay there, and the notebook was pristine. If any homework had been done, there was no sign of it.

Fuming, he went in search of the boy. He found him in the living room, parked in front of the television. Mitch snapped off the set in the middle of a car chase, earning a glare from Davey.

“Hey! I was watching that.”

“How about your homework?”

“Done.” Davey's tone was airy. “All done.”

Mitch held out the text and notebook. “Show me. You were supposed to write the answers to ten questions. Show me.”

“Listen, I know all that stuff. I don't need to write it down.”

“If you knew all that stuff, you wouldn't be getting a
D
in history.”

“It's dumb, anyway.” Davey glared at him. “I'll bet you never did your homework. I'll bet your brother never did. So why do I have to?”

“Because I said so!” There were a lot better reasons than that, but at the moment his fuse was so short that he couldn't think of any. He tossed the book at Davey. “Get up to your room, and don't come out until the work is finished. And don't count on watching TV again any time soon.”

“You're not my boss!” Davey let the book fall
to the floor. “I don't have to do what you say. When my father comes back—”

“If your father comes back, you can argue with him. Until then, you'll live by my rules.” He scooped the book off the floor and shoved it into Davey's hands. “Now go upstairs and get started.”

Davey glared at him for another moment. Then he turned and stamped up the stairs, each footstep making its own protest. The door to his bedroom slammed shut.

Mitch held on to the conviction that he was right for about another minute-and-a-half. Then his anger cooled and the truth seeped in. He'd just blown up at Davey because he was angry with Link. To say nothing of being angry with himself.

Oh, he was right: the kid had to do his homework. But Mitch was the grown-up in the equation. He shouldn't have lost his temper. He certainly shouldn't have said anything about Davey's father.

He glanced uncertainly toward the stairs. Should he go up and apologize? Or say something about the boy's father? But the man seemed to have done an excellent job of disappearing.

He could have stood some impartial advice. If he hadn't made Anne thoroughly disgusted with him, he could have asked her. She and Davey seemed to have connected. But that door was closed until he managed to make amends.

Maybe the best thing was to leave the kid alone for a bit. He glanced at his watch. He'd give Davey
an hour, then see how he was getting along. If he hadn't done the questions by then, maybe he could use some help. Then they could have a snack and watch something on television together, the way he'd always imagined families did.

Mitch sat down with the newspaper and tried to concentrate on the printed words. Unfortunately, too many things kept intruding. Was he doing the right thing for Davey? What was he going to do about Link? And most of all, how could he make things right with Anne?

Her face seemed to form against the black-and-white page, angry and hurt. The two of them had been closer than they'd ever been this afternoon. They'd reached a new level of understanding and trust, quite apart from the kiss that had shaken him as he'd never been shaken in his life.

And then it had all fallen apart.

Finally he put the paper down and looked at his watch: forty-five minutes. Good enough. He'd go fix things with Davey. It would be practice for trying to fix things with Anne.

He went up the steps quickly, forming the words in his mind. No indication that he was backing down on the homework issue, just a friendly offer to help—that was the right tone to take.

He tapped lightly on the door, then opened it. “Davey?”

He was talking to an empty room. The history
book lay on the crumpled bed, and the window stood open to the cold night air. Davey was gone.

Anne put a light blanket over Emilie, tucking it around the sleeping baby. Emilie sprawled on her back, rosy face turned slightly to the side, hands outstretched. The pose spoke of perfect trust, perfect confidence. In Emilie's view of the world, everything was secure.

A lump formed in Anne's throat. Emilie didn't know it, but things weren't as secure as all that. Anne was the only person standing between her and an uncertain future. She'd never before felt so alone.

For a few brief moments that afternoon she'd begun to think life didn't have to be this way. She'd started to believe she really could have the kind of relationship she'd always thought was a mirage—one based on trust and openness. Something very good had begun between her and Mitch.

And then Mitch let his feelings about his brother spoil everything. Why couldn't he talk to her about it? He'd been so determined to hold everything inside, so irrationally angry. She didn't understand, and she probably never would.

The doorbell rang, suddenly and persistently, breaking the stillness in the old house. Startled, she closed the door to the bedroom gently, then went out into the hallway. She leaned over the stairs. What on earth was going on?

She saw Kate hurry toward the door. If something
was wrong, she shouldn't let Kate face it alone. She started down the steps as the older woman unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Mitch erupted into the hallway. “Have you seen Davey?”

“No, not today.” Kate ushered Mitch in and closed the door. “Why?”

Heart pounding, Anne hurried down the rest of the stairs. Mitch wouldn't look like that unless something had happened.

“Mitch?”

He looked over Kate's head toward Anne. “It's Davey. He's run away.”

She barely registered Kate's exclamations of dismay. She was too occupied with the message Mitch's dark eyes were sending her.

Help.
For the first time in their relationship, he wanted—needed—her help.

“What can we do?” Knowing why the boy had run could wait. Finding him—that was the important thing.

“I thought maybe he'd come over here.” He glanced at Kate.

“We haven't seen hide nor hair of him.” Kate clasped her hands in front of her. “Poor child. It's getting cold out, too. He shouldn't be out there in the cold and the dark. If he goes into the woods—”

“What do you want us to do?” she asked again. Mitch needed their help, not Kate's woeful predictions.

He shook his head. “Not much you can do if he hasn't come here. I'll get some people together and start a search.”

“Maybe he'll come back on his own. Once he cools off, I mean.”

“I did that a time or two.” A muscle twitched in Mitch's jaw. “But I was a teenager then, not a ten-year-old. And it's supposed to drop below freezing tonight. I don't think it's safe to wait.”

“No.” She shivered, thinking of the lonely mountainous woods that surrounded Bedford Creek. “Let me get a coat. I'll help look.”

“You don't know the area well enough.” His rejection seemed automatic, but she wasn't going to be left behind to worry.

“I'm another pair of eyes. I can go with someone who does know.”
Like you.

Mitch gave a curt nod, obviously too intent on the search to argue.

“I'll watch the baby.” Kate seemed glad to have something constructive to do. “I'll put the outside lights on, so he'll know someone's home if he wants to come here. And I'll start the prayer chain, if that's all right with you.”

Mitch nodded. He looked at Anne. “Ready?”

“Right away.” She grabbed her jacket from the coat tree.

“Let's get down to the station. I'll call the search team out from there.”

She hurried after him down the steps, his anxiety
palpable, pulling her along.
Hurry, hurry.
The cold wind, whistling down the mountain, made her thrust her hands into her pockets.

“He'll be all right.” She said it to Mitch's back. “We'll find him.”

He yanked open the cruiser door, and she slid into the passenger seat. When he got in beside her, his face was taut in the glare that spilled from the dome light.

“I hope so. Looks like I was the wrong choice for the boy.”

She shook her head. “If you made a mistake, you can fix it. The important thing now is to find him.”

For a moment longer he stared at her. Then he nodded, and his usual stoic mask seemed to fall into place.

“Right.” He clasped her hand for an instant. “Thanks.”

He started the police car, and it lurched forward.

She peered out the side window as the car spun around the corner. Dark, too dark to see much. She leaned her forehead against the window, hoping against hope that Davey would spring suddenly into view, safe and sound.

But he didn't.

Please, Lord.
She stared out into the darkness.
Please, Lord. Be with us and guide our search. And be with that poor lost child.

She hugged herself, shaking a little. A lost child.
At the moment it seemed they were all lost children, in one way or another.

“Shall we have a moment of prayer before we start?” Pastor Richie stepped to the front of the group of searchers who'd gathered at the station.

Anne could sense the urgency seething in Mitch, but he nodded. She clasped her hands in prayer. They needed all the help they could get. Twenty searchers, armed with powerful flashlights, looked like a lot, especially when coupled with those who were already cruising the streets in cars. But it probably wasn't enough—not when they were looking for one small boy in the dark.

Pastor Richie lifted his hands. “Loving Father, we come to You in desperate need. One of Your children is lost. Guide our search, that we may restore him to safety. We know You're watching each of us as a loving father tends his children. We put our search in Your strong hands. In Christ's name we pray, Amen.”

Please, Lord.

She saw Mitch's hands flex, as if he were trying to relieve the tension. Again she felt the urgency that drove him.

“Okay,” he said. “You have your assignments. Everybody know what to do?”

She nodded with the rest. It had already been decided she'd go with Mitch, giving him another pair of eyes to search the blocks around his house.

“All right. Let's go find him.”

The crowd scattered quickly.