Maggie thought back to her phone call with Nick. She shouldn’t have told Nick about Keith. She should have known he’d be skeptical. On top of that, she’d lost her temper and never had a chance to ask how Lisa and the kids were doing. Of course, if there was a problem with the kids, Nick would have told her. He would have used that information to get her to come home.
Still, Maggie felt uneasy, probably because she hadn’t been away from the kids for this many days in a long time. Which was why she needed this break, she told herself firmly. The kids were fine. They had Nick and Lisa and Silvia. They could do without her for a few more days. She’d call in the afternoon when the kids were home from school and talk to them directly.
“Maggie? Where are you?” Jeremy snapped his fingers in front of her face.
She turned in his arms. “Sorry. I was just thinking about what to do next.”
“We’ll find Serena. I promise you that. I don’t know when or how, but I know it will happen. Have some faith.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re great, you know that?”
“I don’t mind hearing it from you.”
She saw the desire flash in his eyes yet again, a physical connection between them that seemed to grow more with each passing minute. “Why?”
she asked somewhat helplessly.
“Why what?”
“Why me? I have a mirror, Jeremy, and it does not tell me I’m the fairest in the land. In fact, I don’t even come close.” She smiled self consciously, trying to act like she didn’t care, when deep down her insecurity ate away at her confidence.
Jeremy sent her a thoughtful look. “I don’t think you see what I see.”
He pulled her over in front of the mirror. His hands cupped her head so she couldn’t twist away. “Look, Maggie.”
“I know what I look like.”
“You have beautiful blond hair that turns gold in the sunlight and silver in the moonlight. I know because I’ve seen you in both.” He paused for a moment as their eyes met in the mirror. “You have a perfect oval face.”
“With lines,” she whispered.
“Laugh lines. Life lines. They make your face interesting.” “You are a good writer,” she said with a reluctant smile.
“And you have the lushest mouth I could ever imagine, just made for all kinds of wicked things.”
Maggie licked her lips, watching in the mirror as Jeremy’s gaze followed her movement with lustful fascination. A shiver ran down her spine as their eyes met again. Here with him, in the mirror, she did look somewhat different, sexier, sultrier. She almost didn’t recognize herself, but then she’d seen herself for so long through Keith’s eyes and her children’s eyes that she’d forgotten she was a woman.
“Beautiful Maggie,” Jeremy said.
“Thank you.”
“For what.”
“Everything.” She turned to face him. “I lived with Keith for a long time. I became comfortable in our love, and I didn’t bother much with makeup or hair. When he died, the little vanity I had completely disappeared, and I didn’t care. But when I saw Keith last night getting into that car with Serena, I felt abandoned and used and really, really ugly.” She took a breath and offered him a shaky smile.
“Thanks for making me take another look. I don’t think the supermodels need to be worried about me honing in on their territory, but it wasn’t as bad as I feared.”
“You don’t need makeup, Maggie. You’re real. Believe me, it’s a lot more appealing. I went to bed with an actress one night, and the next morning half her face was on the pillow. It scared the hell out of me.”
Maggie grinned. “You’re making that up.”“It was that bad. And did I tell you about the time I thought I was getting my hands on two of the biggest hooters I had ever seen in my life, only to find out she was wearing one of those miracle bras?”
Maggie laughed at his disgruntled expression. “Poor baby. Unfortunately, with me, what you see is pretty much what you get.”
“So when do I get it?”
She punched him on the arm. “We’re supposed to be tracking down Serena. Remember?”
“We could always wait here until they come back. I’m sure we could find a way to make use of our time.”
She was sure they could find more than one way. But how could she concentrate on Jeremy when her mind was on Keith?
Jeremy cleared his throat. “I sense a rejection coming.”
“Not a rejection, exactly.”
“You want to go wine tasting, don’t you?”
“I want to find Serena and Keith.”
“All right. I must admit, I have a sudden thirst for a full bodied Bordeaux.”
Maggie couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips. “You make it sound X-rated.”
He sent her a sexy grin. “If you want X-rated, I can do better than that.”
“Right now, I just want a glass of wine, and a long rope to throw around Serena’s neck.” She walked over to the dresser and checked her purse to make sure she had her wallet and lipstick and the note from Serena. She intended to confront her with it in case she tried to deny writing to Keith.
“When we find Serena, maybe you better let me do the talking,” Jeremy suggested. He eyed her large bag with distrust. “You don’t have a weapon in there, do you?”
“Only enough crayons to color her to death.”
“Crayons?” he asked in surprise. “Why would you have crayons?”
“Uh—uh.” She searched desperately for an answer. “Sometimes I
volunteer—at a—at a school, a preschool, where they color a lot, with crayons, lots and lots of crayons.” She pulled open the door.
“Shouldn’t we go?”
He sent her an odd look. “Sure. But…” He walked over to her.
“After we solve the mystery of Keith and Serena, we’ll solve the mystery of Maggie.”
“There is no mystery.”
“You know, every time you lie, you push your hair behind your ear.”
Maggie caught herself doing just that. “It’s a habit.”
“That’s what I intend to find out, Maggie, all of your habits, especially the bad ones.”
Maggie dug her hands into the pockets of her blue jeans. “I don’t have any bad habits,” she lied.
“Your left eye also twitches when you lie.”
“Oh, it does not.” But Maggie couldn’t help glancing in the mirror
just to make sure.
Chapter 18
Lisa put a stamp on the last wedding invitation and set it in the box with a sense of finality. She could not procrastinate any longer. She had to mail the invitations before she changed her mind. Not that she planned on changing her mind, she told herself firmly.
She stood up and glanced out the kitchen window at the empty driveway.
It was past one o’clock and Nick hadn’t returned. He probably loved the idea of making her wait for the fax, just because it was from Raymond.
A small impulsive smile curved her lips. Nick was jealous. She saw the green fire in his eyes every time she said Raymond’s name. Maybe she ought to say it more often just to torture him. Of course, then he’d probably start saying, Suzanne, Suzanne. Her smile turned into a frown.
Lisa opened her soft leather briefcase and pulled out a notepad, determined to concentrate on work. Roxy would be dropped off after band practice, which ended around four thirty, and Nick would pick up Dylan from baseball practice around five. As long as Mary Bea slept, Lisa could work. She could forget about Nick and his taunts and his kisses.
Lisa sighed, unconsciously touching her fingers to her lips. It shocked her to think she still wanted Nick. Eight years ago, she’d hated him. The night of the funeral he’d come to bed with alcohol on his breath, and she’d loathed his touch, not just because he was drunk, but because making love was what had started everything in the first place. Their love had given birth to Robin, and when Robin had died, the love had died, too.
When she’d left San Diego and started her new life, she’d managed to shove Nick completely out of her mind, with a ruthlessness that was probably the one thing that had kept her going.
Not that she’d ever forgotten. And even though she’d consciously locked Nick away in her past, he’d invaded her dreams, night after night. Sometimes, she’d wake up in a sweat, his touch so fresh on her mind that she could almost believe she’d just made love to him. But she always woke up alone.
Think about cereal, Lisa told herself with a sigh. With newfound resolve, she pulled out the advertisement that Monty Friedman had run with his previous agency, and she studied it for color and content, font size and graphics. She listed three good points and three negative points. Then she stared at her pad of paper and tried to think of a catchy slogan.
Nothing came to mind. She began brainstorming evocative, powerful words that would create an image in the reader’s mind. Mother Nature.
Healthy. Satisfying. Great taste. No fat. Your kids will love it.
Nobody believed that one anymore, she decided, and crossed it off her list.
Nick was healthy, Lisa thought idly, remembering the strength in his arms and his hands when he’d held her. She’d always loved his body, and although he’d filled out with age, he still had a vitality that made everyone else seem insubstantial. Not that Raymond wasn’t in shape. He worked out religiously. But Nick had that nice tan to go along with the muscles.
Cereal. Think about cereal. Lisa chewed on the end of her pencil, then practically jumped out of her skin when she heard a car door slam outside. Nick was back. Her pulse sped ahead in a crazy, reckless fashion that made a mockery of her pretended disinterest in the man.
It’s just old-fashioned lust, she told herself firmly, a physical reaction that had more to do with chemistry than with love She and Nick had always been combustible together. Knowing that, she could avoid the danger. She could stop kissing him for one thing and touching him for another. Even looking at him tended to create heat.
So, she’d have to stop looking at him, too.
When Nick finally entered the kitchen, Lisa continued scribbling on her notepad, although her words made no sense. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.
Nick tossed a bunch of papers onto the table, careless of where they landed. “There you go. Love notes from lover boy.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said, as she straightened the papers into a pile. “You’re a real peach.”
“And you’re a real pain in the ass.”
“I see your mood hasn’t improved. Why don’t you go back to work?”
Nick sprawled into the chair across from her. “I’m hungry. Did you eat?”
“I made vegetable soup.” She tipped her head to the pot on the stove.
His expression lightened. “Can I have some?”
“You want soup made by a pain in the—”
He reluctantly smiled. “I take it back. Please, may I have some soup, oh, darling, wonderful Lisa?”
“Help yourself,” she said airily, unexpectedly touched by his deliberately, meant-to-be charming words. No one had called her darling in a very long time. Not that he meant it. He was just making time to get food, and she was not that easy.
Nick stood up and got a bowl out of the cabinet. He filled it to the brim, then returned to the table, eating quietly while Lisa read through the faxes.
They made little sense to her. She was acutely aware of Nick. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was on fire Nick sat so close, barely a foot away. She could touch him if she wanted to. She could probably kiss him if she wanted. “So what’s all that about?” Nick asked, waving his hand toward the work spread out in front of her.
“Cereal,” she said. “Also breakfast bars and whole-grain breads. It’s very healthy.”
“If it’s not, I’m sure you’ll convince me.” He pushed his empty bowl to one side. “Aren’t you the queen of words?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever had to advertise?” he asked with a curious smile.
“The worst thing?” She thought for a moment. “Bug killers.”
“Bug killers?”
“Yes. We did a Cinderella campaign about the roach coach. Send your roaches off to the ball in this coach and they won’t come back at midnight.”
Nick burst out laughing. “No way. That was you? I remember those commercials.”
“That wasn’t the exact wording, and it was better with the music and the visuals.”
“You sold me. I actually bought one of those roach coaches, and it worked.” He sat back in his chair, his eyes still smiling. “Wow. I’m impressed.”
“You’re impressed by my roach coach slogan? Next time you’re yelling at me, remind me to feed you,” Lisa said. “I forgot how much it improves your mood.”
“I’m a simple man, Lisa, a little food, a little—”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I was going to say—”
But he didn’t say anything, because they were interrupted by a piercing scream. Nick’s smile shattered. Lisa jumped from her seat, colliding with Nick in the doorway. She finally struggled free, then ran up the stairs, Nick following behind her.
Mary Bea wasn’t just moaning now, she was crying full force, clutching her stomach and moving her legs in a desperate manner, as if she were trying to crawl out of her own skin. Nick took one look at Mary Bea and paled. “I’m calling the doctor. This can’t be normal.”
“It hurts,” Mary Bea screamed.
Lisa gathered her into her arms. “It’s okay, honey. We’re calling the doctor. Where—where does it hurt?”
“My stomach. Make it stop. Please make it stop.”
Lisa stared at the little girl, feeling completely overwhelmed and panicked. She couldn’t make the pain stop. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. And Mary Bea was looking at her for answers, for help, for relief.
“Oh, God. I can’t do this,” Lisa said as Mary Bea’s cries intensified.
“I can’t.” She looked over at Nick, her breathing coming in ragged gasps as anxiety took over her mind and her body. She felt nauseated herself.
“You can do it. You can,” Nick repeated forcefully.
“What if I screw up again? This isn’t even my kid. Maggie should never have left her with me. I’m jinxed or cursed. I can’t do this.
I’ll only make it worse.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“Get a grip, Lisa. We’ve got more important things to deal with than your insecurity,” Nick said sharply. “You’re scaring Mary Bea.”
Lisa bristled with anger, directed both at herself and at him. Nick was right. She had to get a hold of herself. She glanced down at the wide-eyed child, whose eyes were bright with fever and pain. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s going to be okay. Call the doctor, Nick. His number is on the dresser in Maggie’s room.”
Nick disappeared, and Mary Bea threw her arms around Lisa’s neck, burying her face in Lisa’s chest. Lisa could feel the child’s faith, her blind trust. She desperately hoped it wasn’t misplaced.
“The nurse wants to know if the pain is in the stomach or the abdomen,” Nick said, returning to the room with the portable phone.
“She’s five years old. Her stomach is about as big as my hand.”
“Lisa, she wants to know. “Lisa adjusted Mary Bea so she could gently touch the girl’s stomach. “Does it hurt here?” she asked Mary Bea, pressing slightly on the upper stomach.
Mary Bea whimpered slightly. Lisa ran her hand down lower on the right side. “How about here?”
Mary Bea screamed as if Lisa had cut her with a knife.
“Her abdomen,” Nick said into the phone, retreating to the doorway so he could hear the nurse’s advice over Mary Bea’s screams. “Right side or left?” he asked Lisa.
“Right. Although I’m afraid to even try the left side.”
“Right side seems to be worse,” Nick said. He listened for a moment then looked at Lisa. “Does she have a temp?”
“An hour ago it was still one hundred. It’s been one hundred since last night.”
Nick relayed that information to the nurse. “Has she thrown up?”
“Only the one time, a few hours ago. But tell her the pain has been going on for hours.”
Once again, Nick repeated her comments. He waited, then put a hand over the phone. “She’s checking with the doctor.”
Lisa felt like every second they waited was an eternity, when in reality it was probably just a few moments.
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me,” Mary Bea moaned as Lisa tried to settle her more comfortably on the pillows.
“I’m not going anywhere. I will not leave you, not for one second.”
“Do you promise?” Mary Bea asked, her eyes filled with fear.
Lisa couldn’t find the words. Could she promise to stay? What if Mary Bea got worse? What if it turned out to be like the last time? Wasn’t this exactly why she didn’t want to have children, so she wouldn’t have to face these situations, wouldn’t have to make a terrifying dash to the hospital, wouldn’t have to be afraid that someone she loved, someone who counted on her to protect them, was going to die?
But Mary Bea was not going to die. She was a healthy little girl with a stomachache. Lisa tried to convince herself that all it was, but deep down she knew it was more, and Mary Bea knew it, too. That’s why she wanted Lisa to promise not to leave. Mary Bea was scared. Lisa was beyond scared.
“Lisa, did Maggie leave any sort of consent form?” Nick asked, interrupting them once again. “The nurse says we need the mother’s consent to get treatment.”
“Yes. Yes, she did,” Lisa said, thankful that at least the old Maggie had been thinking before she left home.
“We have a consent form,” Nick said. “Okay, we’ll be right there.”
“Does the doctor want to see her?” Lisa asked, noting the worry in Nick’s eyes.
“Yes, but he wants us to take her to the Emergency Room at Children’s Hospital.”
“He thinks this is an emergency?”
Nick looked at Mary Bea, who was writhing in pain. “He thinks she might have appendicitis.”
“Oh, no,” Lisa said as panic slammed into her like an onrushing wave.
“Nick, we can’t do this without Maggie,” she whispered. “This is her baby.”
“Maggie’s not here. We’re all she’s got, Lisa. Now are you going to fall apart, or are you going to help? Because I can’t take care of both of you.”
“I’m going to help.” His sharp words cut through her panic. She touched Mary Bea’s face with her hand. “I promise I’ll stay with you honey. We’re just going to take you to the doctor so he can make you better. Okay?”
Mary Bea nodded. “You’re coming with me?”
“You bet I am.” She turned to Nick, digging down deep for a strength and a calm she didn’t know she possessed. “Take Mary Bea down to the car. I’ll get my purse and the permission slip Maggie left for us.”
He nodded, offering her a tight smile, which she did not return, still offended by his notion that she wasn’t capable of holding herself together in a situation like this, although she had to admit she’d given him good reason to think that way. Nick drove as quickly as possible to the hospital in San Diego. Fortunately, it was the middle of the afternoon and they didn’t hit much traffic. Mary Bea cried uncontrollably, gasping for breath at times, her face turning red and wet and sticky from tears and sweat. She cried all over Lisa’s knit shirt, soaking the material, until Lisa shivered from the wetness. But she held on tightly to the little girl, saying everything she could think of to reassure her.
All the while, terrifying images of the past ran through Lisa’s mind.
She once again heard her baby’s cry. Then the silence. Nick had convinced her that Robin had gone to sleep—at last. He’d asked her to come to bed.
She could see him, sitting there in bed, his bare chest, his hand reaching out to her, desire in his eyes. They’d made love with a hunger that came from not getting enough of each other since the birth of their child. When she’d checked on Robin an hour later, the baby had looked so still, so peaceful.
Too peaceful, too still.
Robin lay on her stomach, her face turned to the side, one cheek pressed against the mattress. Her dark hair lay sweaty and matted against her small head. One of her little fists was pressed to her mouth as if she had shoved it against her lips to stop her own cries.
Lisa remembered bending over, trying to catch the sound of Robin’s breath, watching her back to see if it was moving, convincing herself that it would be okay. But she couldn’t see or hear anything, so she’d poked the baby with her finger, a nasty little poke, she still thought, cruel to wake a child up just to see if she was breathing.
Robin hadn’t woken up. She hadn’t opened her eyes or cried.
That’s when Lisa had screamed, a piercing, anguished scream. Nick had run into the room in a panic, asking her what the hell was wrong. Lisa closed her eyes against the memories, the pain.