Some kind of wonderful (23 page)

He stepped into the hall and instantly noticed the box sitting on the carpet runner outside his door. Addressed to him. Carol must have been bringing it over when she heard him in the throes of that nightmare.

His heart felt suddenly heavy in his chest and he

slapped one hand to the ache. He didn't have to look at the return-address label to know it was from Hal. He felt it as surely as if what was inside that box had reached out with bony fingers to give him a shake.

Gritting his teeth, Jack shoved at the box with his foot, pushing it along the floor and over the threshold into his apartment. He didn't want to think about what might be inside. That part of his life was over, as he'd told Hal. Whatever flotsam had been left behind, he sure as hell didn't need.

Through narrowed eyes, he stared at the damn thing, half-expecting the flaps on the box to fly open and everything tucked within to jump out at him.

From Carol's apartment came the sound of the baby, still crying, and Carol's soft, soothing voice, calming her, reassuring Liz that she was safe. Loved.

Jack knew where he belonged—in the dark. The shadows. But he also knew where he yearned to be. He shot a look through Carol's open door and instantly felt the welcome of the light-filled rooms spear out to draw him in.

He wouldn't go back to the shadows—those memories—again tonight. Tonight, he would be with Carol. Shoving the box into his empty apartment, he temporarily closed the door on his past and stepped into the present.

And absolutely everyone who came into the store— from the customers to the UPS man—had to make silly noises at her. The man in the corner, Carol thought now, sliding him a quick look as he inspected the hand-carved stocking hangers, had even snapped a picture or two, calling Liz the cutest little elf he'd ever seen.

Darn it, she did look cute, Carol thought, smiling at the baby, dressed in her little reindeer-decorated jumpsuit. What had she done with herself before Liz? And how could she ever have thought she could get through her life without children in it?

Laying one hand gently atop the sleeping baby's tummy, Carol felt the rapid, steady beat of a tiny heart and knew that her world would never be the same. And it wasn't just Liz. It was Jack.

For the last week, he'd spent more nights in her bed than in his own. Habit had become routine and routine had become second nature. They laughed and talked and made love, and every day she thought she saw him opening himself more to the possibilities around him.

But there were still shadows in his eyes that hadn't lifted. Pain she couldn't touch and a part of him she couldn't reach. And she ached for him. She'd taken that terrifying first step with both Liz and Jack. She'd let them into her world and the two of them had taken it over.

Without them... she couldn't even imagine the emptiness in her heart, the silence in her life.

Maybe she was just pumping her balloon up so high that when it popped she would make a lovely spatter on the ground far beneath her. But dammit, she'd had little enough in her life to lift a balloon toward. Shouldn't she appreciate it while she had it? Shouldn't she get all the joy out of life she could?

Liz jumped in her sleep, her tiny body jerking in the carrier and Carol dragged her thoughts away from her own swirl of emotions and soothed the baby with a whispered hush. What did babies dream? she wondered. Did they still remember heaven? Did they dream of games yet to play? Knees yet to skin? Hearts yet to break? "Don't worry, sweetie," she murmured, "I won't let anything hurt you." She leaned over and dropped a soft kiss on the baby's forehead, then reached down to pet and soothe an anxious Quinn.

Still smiling, Carol looked into the dog's big brown eyes. "You're in love with her, too, aren't you?"

The big dog whined, but didn't move from his position directly beneath the baby seat. Clearly, he took his responsibilities as self-appointed nanny seriously.

"Now if only you and Jack could call a truce," she muttered with a shake of her head.

"Miss—" An impatient voice sounded out from the corner where angels of all sizes and shapes were perched, hung, and stacked to best advantage. "How much is the little glass angel with the crooked halo?"

Before she could answer, an older woman at the opposite side of the store spoke up. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take a closer look at this music box. The one with the dancing snowman."

Carol looked from one end of the store to the other, then, sighing, scooped Liz out of her carrier and cradled her close. People had been in and out all day. Friends, customers, and just a few slipping into the air-conditioned building long enough to build up a resistance to the heat. Business was good, so she shouldn't complain. But she sure could have used Lacey's help today. Going first to the angel woman, she flashed a smile, and mentally rang up sales.

Journal entry:

I saw her again today. The baby. Liz. I wouldn 7 have named her Liz, but it seems to suit her.

Carol is so excited because she gets to keep Liz for good, now. She says because the mother wasn 't found, Liz has become a ward of the court. Sounds official. But just because I didn't tell anybody about the baby, that doesn y t mean I'm not still her mother.

You can't change that.

No one can.

I'll always be her real mother.

I want to be her mother.

And Liz should know that.

"Can you believe it's almost time to pack?" Peggy pushed her sunglasses higher up her nose and shot a quick look at Lacey. "I mean, we'll have to be there in August and that's just next month."

"Weird, huh?" Lacey asked and reached for her Diet Coke. It was warm and flat, the ice having melted an hour ago. But neither one of them wanted to give up their prime slice of beach for a long walk to the deli for a refill. "I can't imagine not living in Christmas."

"/ can," Peggy said with dramatic relish. She leaned over the edge of her sand chair and gripped Lacey's forearm. "Think about it, Lace. You and me. In a dorm at Long Beach State." She lifted her dark glasses and wiggled her eyebrows. "Hours away from any watchful eyes. It's gonna be so great."

"Yeah," Lacey said, fighting back the twist of nervousness nibbling at the bottom of her stomach. She fiddled

with her straw, moving it up and down through the plastic lid on her drink until it screeched like a demon.

Peggy looked at everything like an adventure about to happen. Lacey envied that ability and figured it was probably more fun than having your stomach swarm with butterflies every time you tried something new.

"It will," she said, determined to believe it.

This was everything Lacey had worked and studied for. A chance to go to college somewhere new. Where no one knew her. Where no one would care where she was from—only who she was. She could reinvent herself, be whoever she wanted to be.

The only trouble with that plan was, she wasn't entirely sure just who that someone was.

The sun scorched the sand and the tourists intent on getting a tan they could brag about when they went home. Most of the locals skipped the beach on weekends rather than fight for chair and blanket space. But time was short, as Peggy said, and every chance they got, the girls headed for the beach like bees to flowers.

It was all so familiar and sort of comforting, Lacey thought, letting her gaze sweep the shore and the ocean just beyond. Kids raced in and out of the water, chasing and then running from the incoming tide with squeals of pleasure that echoed in the still air. From not too far off, a radio blasted some head-banger rock, and the lifeguard in his tower scoped out the waves, looking for someone to rescue.

Summer in Christmas.

Nothing ever changed here. But it all felt different anyway. Maybe because she was starting to say goodbye to it, if that made any sense.

"I bet we'll be roommates," Peggy was saying, drawing Lacey's attention back to the conversation. "And if

we're not, we could maybe switch with the people we are rooming with so we can be together."

"That'd be good." Peggy Reilly wasn't afraid of anything. Since fourth grade, the tiny redhead had been leading the parade, with Lacey more than happy to follow along after. They made a good team. Peggy was crazy enough to ensure they had fun and Lacey was nervous enough to make sure they were safe.

But on her first foray out into the big, wide world, Lacey would just as soon have the brave and stalwart Peggy as a roommate. Adventure was one thing, but comfort was nothing to be sneezed at.

"I'm telling you, Lace," Peggy said, tipping her head back briefly to feel the sun on her face. "I'm ready for school. It'll be a vacation. Ever since my sister Eileen had her baby, the Reillys have been working me to death."

"Oh, shut up, you're just as nuts about the baby as the rest of them."

"Sure," Peggy said with a grin and a wink. "But honest to God, they're all rushing over to help Eileen and they're dumping the other kids on me. 'Don't want the new baby to catch a cold,'" she mimicked with a sigh. "So I'm the designated baby-sitter, and let me tell you, that Mike?" She shook her head. "He's a little pain in the ass."

"I like him."

"Me, too," Peggy said and shrugged a bit. "But he's not nearly sneaky enough to get away with all the stuff he tries to pull."

Lacey felt another twinge of envy for Peggy's big, loud family. She might complain, but there was nothing she liked better than to be in the middle of a shouting match

with her sisters, her brothers, and all of the assorted nieces and nephews.

"And speaking of babies," Peggy said with a sigh, "Jack says they're no closer to finding the mother of little Liz."

"Where's he been looking?"

"Everywhere," Peggy said. "He told Sean that he'd called in favors up and down the coast, checking on hospitals and clinics, looking for a woman who'd recently given birth. Nothing."

"I asked a friend of mine over at Chandler High," Lacey said, remembering the conversation she'd had just last week. "Anna says that nobody at her school's been getting fatter and then suddenly losing weight. So I don't know where else to look."

"I know." Peggy pushed her hair back from her face and squinted into the sunlight. A small, evil smile curved her lips as she admitted, "I was kind of hoping Jennifer Stephens would turn out to be the mom... you know, Miss Rich Bitch goes to Europe for a semester?"

Lacey nodded, enjoying the image. "That would have been good."

"But she's so bony, no way did she have a baby recently."

Lacey tugged her sweatshirt down over the tops of her shorts. Not that she was self-conscious or anything; after all, she'd lost a lot of weight in the last few months. But still... thinking about Jennifer's size six body was enough to make anybody a little less than confident.

"Anyway," Peggy said, shaking her hair back from her face, "leaving my fascinating family and abandoned babies out of the conversation ... Sophomore year, I'm thinking we should get an off-campus apartment." She

slurped at her own Coke until the straw noisily sucked air. "Can you just see us? Down in Long Beach, just us? So great." She laughed to herself. "Just think. No big brothers sticking their noses in. No more cleaning hotel rooms or scrubbing the restaurant kitchen. No more working at Carol's for you. We can get jobs down on the pier or something. Be at the beach every day, far from anybody who knows us. Just you, me, and a campus full of new and interesting guys."

Peggy made it sound as wonderful as they'd always planned it would be. The two of them had been waiting for this chance for what felt like forever.

And now it was almost here.

Away from home. From family. From everything familiar. It's what she'd always wanted, Lacey thought as Peggy kept talking, expanding on her plans until they took on the size and scope of an invasion. Lacey hardly heard her anymore.

Nerves rattled around inside her and woke up the butterfly brigade napping in her stomach. Instantly, they swarmed, fluttering wings and flying in formation until she had to swallow hard or lose her Coke, right there on the beach.

Everything would be all right, she told herself firmly and slapped one hand to her stomach, trying to ease those butterflies into going back to sleep.

Ed Thompson stretched back in his recliner and settled his butt into the cavern he'd dug out in the soft, worn leather. Nothing like a man's own chair for comfort.

He looked up at Jack Reilly and told himself that the young fella needed to learn a little something about relaxing. Looked as tightly strung as Ed's wife Wanda.

And nobody was as tense as Wanda. Except that she had been unwinding some these past couple of weeks.

"How's everything down in town?" Ed prompted, getting down to the business of the visit.

"Fine. Normal." Jack moved around the den, scanning framed photos and certificates hanging on the wall and then idly thumbing through fishing magazines stacked on the coffee table.

"No problems?" Ed narrowed his gaze on the younger man.

Jack snorted. "Cheryl Stephens filed a complaint. Says people are spreading rumors that her girl Jen is the mother of that baby."

Ed shook his head and huffed out a disgusted breath. "Abandoned babies in Christmas. Never thought I'd see it." He sucked in a gulp of air and blew it out again in a rush. Then he picked up the TV remote to have something to do with his hands. "But Cheryl's spitting into the wind. Can't stop a rumor with a complaint. Just adds fuel to it. Folks figure she's got something to hide, they'll just dig deeper. Nothing people like better than to talk about somebody who isn't them."

"What I said," Jack admitted and sat down on the arm of the red and blue plaid couch. "It's not Jen, anyway. The girl was in school in Paris. I checked. Talk will die down eventually."

"When something juicier comes along."

'True." Jack held his baseball cap between his hands and turned it incessantly, front to back, front to back. "Elves' Hardware had a break-in," he said conversationally.

"A burglary?" Ed came halfway out of his chair before Jack grinned at him.