Always in Her Heart (6 page)

They'll take you away and put you in a home.
He hadn't heard his mother's voice in years, but now it echoed in his head.

“Is it really that important for me to be here? Doesn't she just have to check out the house?”

Annie spun around, dark hair swinging against her cheeks. Marcy was already asleep on her shoulder.

“Of course it's important.” Her voice was as sharp as he'd ever heard it. “That's the whole point, remember? We have to convince her that we're a family, that we can make a home for Marcy.”

They'll take you away—

He clamped the door shut on that memory, but it kept sliding through the cracks. How did someone who'd never known a home figure out how to create one? He could build a house, but that wasn't the same thing.

Still, he didn't have a choice about this, and he knew it. Davis had trusted him. Annie was counting on him.

“Right.” He took a breath, pasted a smile on his face. “I'll be here.”

 

“Oh, Marcy, don't do that.” Annie raced across the family room. While she'd been in the kitchen, dithering about whether or not she should offer coffee to the social worker, Marcy had been quietly pulling all the video tapes out of their cases.

“Here, honey, play with your nice teddy.”

Marcy threw the teddy bear across the floor and
dived toward the videotapes again as the door swung open. Annie's heart nearly stopped, until she realized it was Link.

“Planning a video show?” He dropped his jacket on the nearest chair.

Annie scooped up the baby and handed her to Link. “Please, take her. And hang up your jacket. We've got to have things cleaned up by the time that woman gets here.”

His eyebrows rose at her tone, but he took Marcy and picked up his jacket again.

She shouldn't be taking her tension out on him, but she'd been worried, ever since his comment the previous night, that he wouldn't show up on time.

“It'll be okay.” He came back from the closet, lifting Marcy to his shoulders. “I'm sure she doesn't expect a house with a baby to be spotless all the time.” He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself.

“I wish I believed that.” She shoved the last videotape into place and glanced around the kitchen and family room, hands on her hips. “Since we spend most of our time in here, I thought we'd talk here instead of the living room. Should I offer her coffee? Does that pine air freshener smell all right, or did I overdo it?”

“I think you should calm down.” He plopped Marcy into her toy car and steered her across the family room, making her laugh. “It's going to be okay.”

Usually Marcy's laugh made him smile. At the mo
ment, his mouth was tight. In spite of his words, he looked as nervous about this visit as she felt, maybe more so.

“Right.” She took a deep breath and sent up a silent prayer for guidance. “We'll be okay.”

The doorbell rang as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Her stomach seemed to turn over, and Link stiffened.

Okay,
she thought.
Oh, Becca, I wish you were here.

She opened the door. “Please, won't you come in?”

The woman—Mrs. Enid Bradshaw—looked as if she were in her mid-fifties, pleasant and grandmotherly until you noticed how shrewd her blue eyes were behind her gold-rimmed glasses.

“Mrs. Morgan, I'm happy to meet you.” She shook hands, then stepped past Annie into the family room, focusing in on Link. She held out her hand. “And Mr. Morgan.”

Link shook hands, nodding curtly. Annie frowned at him behind the woman's back. He ought to be a little more forthcoming than that.

“Won't you sit down? And would you care for some coffee?” She clasped her hands behind her back, sure that if she gestured with them, she'd knock something over.

“No coffee for me, thanks.” The woman settled onto the couch and patted the cushion next to her. “Let's sit down and get acquainted.”

Annie obediently sat next to her, then glanced at Link. He didn't make any move to come over to them, but continued to rock the baby back and forth in her car.

Mrs. Bradshaw beamed at Marcy. “Such a big girl. I guess she likes her car, doesn't she.”

“Especially when she can get Link to push her around the house.” She frowned at Link. Why was he just standing there? She took a deep breath. Maybe she ought to plunge right in. “Why don't you tell us what you need to know, Mrs. Bradshaw. We'll try to answer any questions you have.”

The woman's gaze moved from Annie to Link to the baby. “I'm sure you're feeling nervous about this whole situation, so I'll tell you what I have in mind. I'd like for us to talk a bit, about how you're doing and how Marcy's doing. Then perhaps you'd show me around the house.” She smiled. “I promise, I won't look in any closets. Doesn't sound too bad, does it?”

“No.” She tried to smile, tried to tell herself that the woman just wanted what was best for Marcy. That surely, if Mrs. Bradshaw was good at her job, she'd see how much Annie loved the baby.

“Let's start with how the two of you are doing. This has been a difficult time for both of you, hasn't it?”

For an instant she thought the lump in her throat would keep her from speaking. She had to force the words out. “We both lost people who were very dear
to us. I'm not sure I've taken it in yet,” she said as her gaze brushed the family photo on the bookcase.

“And of course it's a big life change for a career woman like yourself.”

That sounded like a direct quote from Frank Lester. Had Mrs. Bradshaw met with them already? She didn't dare ask. Or maybe it was just that her inexperience as a mother was written all over her face.

“My niece means everything to me.” She met the woman's gaze squarely. “I'd give up any job for her.”

The woman nodded, then glanced at Link. He'd sat down on the rug with Marcy in his lap, and they both seemed intent on the jack-in-the-box he'd taken out of the cabinet where Marcy's toys were stored. All Link's focus was on the baby. Worry pricked her. Would the social worker think it odd he was not participating in the conversation more?

“What about you, Mr. Morgan? How are you getting along?”

“All right.”

Annie frowned at him. He blinked, then seemed to realize something more was expected of him.

“Davis had been my best friend since college. I miss him. But it helps that I can do something for his child.”

“This hasn't been the best way to start out married life, has it.”

If she waited for Link to answer that one, Annie suspected, she'd be waiting a long time. His expla
nations of why this marriage was best for all of them seemed to have deserted him.

“We're both dealing with our grief and the changes in our lives. But Link and I have known each other for a long time, so that makes things easier.” She wasn't going to lie to the woman, implying that this had been some grand, romantic love match. “We both love Marcy and want what's best for her. We believe that's what our marriage gives her.”

“Do you have anything to add, Mr. Morgan?”

For a moment she thought he wouldn't answer at all, and her nerves tightened to the breaking point. Finally he shook his head.

“I think Annie has put it very well.”

“Fine.” Mrs. Bradshaw put both hands on her knees and stood up quickly. “Why don't you show me the rest of the house, then?”

“But—” She stood up automatically. “Don't you want to ask us anything else?”
We've blown it. She thinks we're so terrible she's not even going to bother asking the rest of her questions.

“There'll be plenty of time for that.” She smiled, but Annie couldn't read the expression in those shrewd eyes. “We'll be visiting together a number of times.”

We've blown it. We really have.

She couldn't stop the refrain from repeating itself in her mind as she led the social worker through the house. The woman had said she wouldn't look in any closets, but she did check under the sink in the
kitchen and in each bathroom, as if to be sure they hadn't left anything dangerous there.

They paused in the nursery, Mrs. Bradshaw looking around in appreciation. “This is charming.”

“My sister designed it herself.” Her throat was tight again. “I came down one weekend and helped her put up the wallpaper border. She was so happy with how it turned out.”

Nodding, the woman went back into the hall, peeking into the master bedroom and bath, then the guest room and Davis's small office, strewn now with the papers and blueprints Link had brought in.

Had she noticed the obvious signs that Annie and Link were not sharing a bedroom? Annie held her breath, waiting for the woman to ask about it, but she didn't.

They trooped back downstairs. Link still didn't say anything, and Annie's frustration mounted. Couldn't he even try to be pleasant to the woman?

Mrs. Bradshaw shook hands with both of them, tickled Marcy's soft cheek and made her way out of the family room. The door closed behind her.

Annie stood at the family room window, a smile frozen on her face, until the social worker's car had disappeared down the street. Then she swung toward Link.

“What on earth is wrong? You barely spoke to the woman the whole time she was here. Are you trying to make us lose Marcy?”

L
ink stared at Annie, her question echoing between them.

His head throbbed in time with the blocks Marcy was pounding. He could hardly think, let alone speak.
Careful. Don't lose it. Don't let her know the truth.

“What are you talking about? Mrs. Bradshaw seemed friendly enough. I thought it went well.” He leaned against the back of the lounge chair with forced casualness and tried to sound as if he actually believed that.

“Went well?” Annie stood framed by the door for a moment, the light from its window behind her. Then she took a quick step toward him. “How can you say that?”

He shrugged, still so tense that the movement of his shoulders felt stiff. “She didn't ask any hard questions. You were able to cope with everything.”

If I said too much, I was afraid she'd see right through me. Social workers probably develop a gift for that.

“Yes,
I
did.” Annie planted her hands on her hips. By the look in her eyes, he suspected she'd rather use them to throttle him.

“Look, I answered every question the woman asked me.” He straightened, knowing he couldn't hold a casual pose any longer. The things he couldn't say kept beating in his mind. “Men don't talk about their feelings. If she's any kind of a social worker, she must know that.”

Annie shook her head, her mouth set. “That's a pretty feeble excuse.”

Marcy stopped pounding with her blocks and looked up at him as if she agreed.

“It's the only one you'll get.” His anger flared. “I'm going out.”

He started to move past Annie toward the door. She grabbed his wrist.

“You've got to tell me what's going on, Link. We have an agreement. This situation is too important for either of us to let our feelings get in the way.”

He could pull free of her in an instant. He didn't want to.

Her fingers tightened against his skin, demanding an answer. “Tell me.”

He did jerk free then, but he didn't go out the door. He couldn't.

Annie was right. He'd gotten them into this, and
the least he owed her was as much of the truth as he could manage to say.

“All right!” He turned away, not wanting to look at her, and found himself facing the photo of Davis on the bookshelf. His friend looked back at him. With reproach? He wasn't sure what Davis would think of this. They'd both had secrets to hide.

“All right,” he said again, more quietly. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize it would bother me so much to have the social worker looking into our situation. I thought I could handle it.”

“But you couldn't.” Annie's voice had gone soft, too, as if she knew this was important. “Why, Link? What have you ever had to do with social workers?”

He swung toward her, feeling his lips twist when he tried to smile. “You never knew about my background, did you?” He made the thing he'd always feared into a question. “Davis didn't tell Becca, Becca didn't repeat it to you?”

“I don't know what Davis might have told Becca, but I've never known anything about your life before you became Davis's roommate.” Her gaze was very steady, assuring him that she was telling the truth.

Not that he could doubt it. Annie didn't lie.

He had to do something, not just watch her face while he said this. He planted both hands against the bookcase, as if he intended to push it right through the wall.

“Let's just say I didn't have the kind of family background Davis did, with the nice house and the
name in the community and the secure position going back generations in the same place.”

He felt her move closer, but she didn't attempt to touch him.

“Neither did Becca and I, for that matter. We weren't like the Conrads of Lakeview. We were just ordinary, middle-class people. That doesn't make me afraid of social workers.”

“I'm not afraid!”

Liar. You're afraid she's going to turn you back into that kid again—the one nobody wanted.

“What would you call it, then?”

He stopped trying to push the bookcase through the wall and straightened. “Okay. Maybe
afraid
isn't a bad word for it. You might be, too, if you'd grown up like I did.”

“What—”

He swung toward her before she could ask the question. “My mother was a drunk, is that plain enough? I never knew my father—he had sense enough to beat it before I was born. It wasn't exactly the perfect childhood.”

“Mrs. Bradshaw reminded you.”

If that was pity in her voice, he didn't want it. “My mother always said that if I didn't behave, the social worker would put me in a home. She used that as a reason to stay on the move from town to town, always starting over, always looking for something we didn't have.” His stomach twisted with the effort to sup
press the kid he'd been. “The only place she ever found what she wanted was in a bottle.”

“Link, I'm sorry.” Annie's voice broke, and she reached out to touch him.

He jerked away from her hand. “I don't want your pity. I just want you to understand.”

“All right. No pity.” Her brown eyes were bright with tears, and she took an audible breath as if to steady herself. “Just facts. We have to look like a family to Mrs. Bradshaw, no matter what our feelings are.”

Look like a family.
He hadn't realized how hard that would be, or he wouldn't have gotten them into this.

No, that was wrong. He would have, because this was the only way to save the company.

“Look, nothing in my life ever prepared me to be a father. I don't know how to be what I've never experienced, and nothing you say will change that.”

Her mouth trembled but she didn't speak. That just made him feel worse.

“I'll save the company for Marcy if I can.” He grabbed his jacket, knowing he had to get out of there. “That's the best I can do, and it'll have to be enough.”

 

Annie had spent twenty-four hours thinking and praying, and she still didn't know what to make of Link's revelation. Every time she tried to think ra
tionally about his childhood, she was overwhelmed with a mixture of pity and fear.

She maneuvered the stroller over the curb at the corner of the square, heading toward the Town House Restaurant to meet Link for dinner. The afternoon had turned windy, so she'd dressed Marcy in her bright red fleecy jacket with the hood. The baby's blond hair curled around the edge of the hood as she leaned forward to bat the fabric blocks that were linked to the stroller frame.

Link had barely spoken since he'd stormed out of the house the night before. Stormed? Or fled? He'd certainly been trying to escape. He'd been embarrassed either about exposing his secret or about the pity she'd been unwise enough to show.

He hadn't come back to the house until after she'd gone to bed. She'd heard his careful steps in the hall as he'd tiptoed past the baby's room, had listened to the sound of the guest room door close.

Had he slept at all? She didn't know. Her sleep had certainly been troubled, to say the least. She'd finally fallen into a deep slumber around dawn, and Link had been gone when she woke.

He'd called later, suggesting she and Marcy meet him at the Town House for supper. He'd sounded perfectly normal, as if yesterday's emotions were just a dream.

If that was how he wanted to play this, she'd have no choice but to go along with him. She glanced down at the gold ring on her left hand. Marriage ap
parently didn't give her the right to extend sympathy to him.

She kept being swamped with pity for the boy he'd been. Her imagination could easily fill in the blanks in his brief recital. He'd been an outsider—unloved and unwanted probably all his life until Davis had brought him to Lakeview.

Now he belonged here. She'd thought his determination to hold on to control of the company was almost too intense. Now she knew why. Conrad and Morgan wasn't just a company to him. It was his place in the world. What would he sacrifice to keep it?

She'd allowed herself to believe that she and Link were in this together. That was a dangerous illusion.

She couldn't count on him. She couldn't count on anyone. She was in this alone, and she had to make that clear to both of them.

Be with me, Lord.
She grasped the brass handle of the restaurant door and pulled, struggling to get the stroller through the opening.
Be with me, because I don't have anyone else.

The rush of warm, scented air welcomed her to the restaurant, and a teenaged waiter sprang to hold the door and help her with the stroller.

“Mrs. Morgan, your table is ready.” He smiled down at the baby. “Hey, Marcy, what's cooking?”

Marcy reached for him with an answering smile, and he tickled her cheek.

“Looks as if you're old friends.”

“I'm Tommy Evers.” The boy had a spattering of freckles to go with his red hair. “My gram is your next-door neighbor. Marcy knows me from church nursery, too.”

Simple, wasn't it? She just wasn't used to the permutations of small-town life. And she couldn't let herself depend on that life, either. These people could be lining up solidly behind the Lesters, for all she knew.

He pushed the stroller. “This way. We'll get you guys settled. Link hasn't come in yet.”

He led her to a corner table and lifted Marcy to the high chair he had ready. “I'll be back in a sec with your menus.”

The Town House was all dark-paneled walls, brass light fixtures and white tablecloths. Tuesday must be quiet—only three other tables were occupied. She was just taking the baby's jacket off when the outer door swung open again. Link had arrived.

The surge of pleasure she felt at the sight of his tall figure dismayed her.
You're in this alone,
she reminded herself.
Link has his own interests to protect.

For the moment their interests coincided, but if that changed… She didn't want to finish that thought.

“Hi.” Link responded to Marcy's pleased crow with a light kiss on the top of her head. He slid into the chair opposite Annie, his presence seeming to complete the circle around the table.

He must have changed at the office, since he hadn't come back to the house. He'd put on a cream-colored
fisherman's sweater that made his dark hair gleam in contrast. And she shouldn't be noticing that.

The waiter returned at that moment. While he and Link analyzed the high school football team's chances at the upcoming game, she lectured herself into her usual common sense.

Once the waiter left with their orders, she tried to find something to talk about. “I take it you follow the local football team.” That was an inane comment, but better than nothing.

“Sure.” He looked surprised. “Everyone does.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Not in Boston.”

“Okay, not in cities, I guess. In small towns, what else would you do on Friday nights?” He eyed her speculatively. “What do you usually do on a Friday night back in Boston?”

She shrugged, glancing down at her place mat. “Nothing very exciting, I suppose. I'm usually ready to collapse with a video after working all week. If I'm going out, I save that 'til Saturday. And Sundays I spend with my folks.”

It probably sounded boring. It probably
was
boring, but it was real, unlike the fantasy they were trying to create here.

Before he could say something polite about her mundane life, a couple from another table stopped by. The man started talking to Link about the progress they'd made at the job that day. The woman looked at Annie with frank curiosity until Link introduced them.

“This is Linda and Joe Trent. Joe works with me, and Linda was a friend of Becca's.”

“Actually, I'm in the play group Becca started.” The petite brunette bent to plant a kiss on Marcy's cheek. “Hi, sweet baby. Charlie can't wait to see you at play group.” She smiled at Annie. “My little guy's two, and he's got the biggest crush on Marcy—always trying to hug her. You're going to continue with play group, aren't you?”

Aware of Link's gaze on her, she nodded. “I hope to.”

“I'll see you there, then. And if you need any help with anything…”

“Come on, honey, let them have their dinner in peace. You can talk tomorrow.” Joe steered his wife away from the table. “See you.”

Salads appeared in front of them, as if Tommy had been waiting until the others were out of the way. Link shook his white napkin and dropped it in his lap.

“Sorry about that.”

“People are curious, I guess.”

He nodded. “That's natural enough. Around here, you tend to see the same people everywhere you go. And everyone knew Davis and Becca. I'm surprised you haven't met Becca's play group friends when you were here visiting.”

“Actually, I think Becca introduced some of them at one time or another. But I was here to visit Becca and her family, not to become part of the Lakeview community.”

I didn't want to then. This was Becca's place, not mine. I don't belong here.

Link paused with a forkful of greens halfway to his mouth. “Things are different now. You need to be part of it.”

“Just because it's important to you—” She stopped. That came dangerously close to bringing up the things he'd told her.

His face tightened. “I'm not talking about myself. I was thinking of the Lesters.”

A shiver worked down her spine. She said the thing she feared. “You think the case might go their way because their family's been part of this community for generations.”

His brow furrowed. “I hope that won't work against us.” He met her gaze. “But I don't know. It sure wouldn't hurt to try and make some friends.”

“I already said I'd go to the play group.” She attacked her salad with her fork.