Belonging (30 page)

Still, her mood was far from happy, and even
Georgia moped around the office all week. Angie thought her own
bleak spirits had something to do with it, but she soon discovered
that wasn't the case at all.

Though Angie was glad that Sam and Georgia
had found each other, she was the first to admit that the idea of
Georgia involved in a mad passionate affair took a little getting
used to. Georgia wasn't the type to supply every little detail of
what went on between her and Sam, but over the past few weeks Angie
had learned that things were progressing at a very nice pace.

"Going out this weekend?" Angie dropped a
pile of letters she'd just signed back into the tray on Georgia's
desk.

"Nope." Georgia slammed a drawer shut.

As she shoved her chair back and headed
toward the filing cabinet, Angie's puzzled gaze followed her
assistant. Suddenly she realized that she hadn't seen Sam hovering
around the office at all during the past week.

"Uh-oh," she murmured, thinking aloud.
"Something tells me there's trouble in paradise."

Georgia yanked a stack of folders from the
cabinet and marched back to her desk. She eyed the younger woman
over the rim of her glasses. "What makes you think that?" she
retorted gruffly.

Angie raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't trying to
pry, Georgia. But it just occurred to me that Sam hasn't taken you
to lunch even once this week."

"That's because he's got more on his mind
than lunch—a lot more!" At Angie's startled look she heaved an
impatient sigh. "For heaven's sake, not that."

By now Angie was trying hard not to smile.
"If not 'that,'" she chided teasingly, "then what?"

Georgia scowled. "Let's just say he's getting
a little too serious."

Angie watched Georgia as she flitted around
the office, straightening furniture that didn't need to be
straightened, swiping dust off plants that weren't dusty. "Too
serious?" she asked when it became apparent that Georgia wasn't
going to offer anything more unless coaxed.

"He wants to get married!"

Angie was tempted to laugh at Georgia's
aghast expression, but the hint of sadness mixed with the confusion
in her eyes stopped her. "And you don't?"

"No!" Following that fervent denial, Georgia
dropped into the nearest chair. "I mean yes, I do, but..." She
began to wring her hands. "We had one heck of a humdinger over it,"
she finally admitted.

"Do you love him?" Angie asked calmly.

"Yes."

"And he loves you?"

"He says he does."

"Do you believe him?"

"Yes." Georgia's chin lifted a notch. "Yes, I
do!"

Angie leaned a hip against the corner of the
desk. "Then what's stopping you from marrying him?"

Georgia hesitated. "I'm forty-four years
old," she said slowly. "I've been on my own for longer than I care
to remember, I'm independent as hell." She shook her head. "I don't
know, Angie. I'm not sure I could get used to making that kind of
change in my life. Sam and I might end up driving each other
crazy."

"That's where a little principle called
give-and-take comes in," Angie reminded her. "You certainly won't
know unless you try." She mulled silently for a moment. "I guess
you have to ask yourself if you're better off with him or without
him. And if worse comes to worst and you still can't decide, then
maybe it's time to listen to your heart."

By the time she'd finished, Georgia was
looking at her with an odd expression. "And maybe," the other woman
added quietly, "it's time you listened to yours."

The room grew very still. She knew Georgia
was referring to the state of affairs between her and Matt. The
reasons Georgia had just rattled off for refusing to marry Sam were
ones that could easily have applied to herself.

What a fool she was. What a blind,
hypocritical fool.

Finally she looked across at Georgia with a
weak smile. "I'm a fine one to be dishing out advice, aren't
I?"

Georgia got up and squeezed her shoulder. "If
it makes you feel any better, he's just as miserable. Margie told
me yesterday that walking into his office is like walking into a
minefield."

But knowing that Matt was miserable didn't
make her feel any better. It only made her feel guilty. It had
never been her intention to hurt him—she'd told him that and she
meant it with all her heart. If only she had been able to resist
him. If only she had been stronger. If only he had listened to her
from the start. If only...

By Saturday morning there was one thing she
was sure of—if she didn't find some way of getting her mind off
Matt, she would end up a basket case. Even with the girls to keep
her company, the loneliness at home was stifling.

***

The morning was warm, beautifully sunny and
cloudless. Much too gorgeous a day to stay cooped up at home
entertaining morose thoughts, Angie told herself. She called the
Crawfords to see if they would be interested in a picnic. Bill was
working overtime at the mill, but Janice and her children decided
to come

along, anyway. She packed a lunch, and they
all piled into the Crawfords' station wagon and headed to a park
just outside the city.

It was early in the afternoon when Janice
glanced over at Angie. They'd spread a quilt beneath the
protective shade of a gnarled old oak tree, and Angie lay on her
back, her knees tucked up, her hands resting on her stomach. She
looked peaceful and rested, but there was a telltale sadness in her
eyes that was only too familiar to Janice. Over the past few weeks
she'd followed the current state of affairs between her friend and
Matt Richardson with delighted interest, but it was clear that
lately something wasn't right.

"You know," Janice eased into the
conversation, "that confession is good for the soul, don't
you?"

Angie frowned good-naturedly, her eyes still
closed. She'd known her friend far too long to pretend not to know
what she was talking about. "We came for a little R and R, Jan.
Let's not spoil it, hmm?"

Janice shrugged. The light, bantering tone
didn't fool her. "Who can you talk to about a man, if not a woman?"
She sighed when Angie wrinkled her nose. "And here I thought you'd
thrown away your halo and clipped your wings not long after you met
Matt Richardson."

Angie opened one eye and turned her head
slightly. If Janice was trying to rile her, it wasn't succeeding,
at least not yet. "What," she asked airily, "is that supposed to
mean?"

Cross-legged, Janice swung around to face
her. "It means that I thought you'd finally started living
again."

Angie sat up. "Come on," she protested,
brushing a stray blade of grass from her shorts. "What is this if
not living? It's a beautiful day, I don't have to work and I'm not
spending it cooped up—"

"Aha!" the other woman exclaimed
triumphantly, a gleam in her eyes. "But what about tonight?"

Angie's mouth snapped shut. Janice's smile
faded, as well, and she reached out to touch Angie's hand. "I'm not
trying to pry," she said gently, "but I know when something's
wrong. And I have a very good suspicion it has to do with Matt
Richardson."

Angie nodded reluctantly.

"You're not seeing each other? Other than
professionally?"

The shake of Angie's head was barely
perceptible.

"Your choice or his?"

"Mine." Angie's mouth scarcely moved.

Janice's eyes were full of sympathy. "What's
the problem? That is, if it's anything you can talk about," she
quickly added. "Or want to talk about."

Eric had toddled over some time ago and now
lay sleeping between the two women. In the awkward void of silence,
Angie reached out and began to gently pat his back.

"There would be no problem if I'd never
gotten involved with him in the first place," she reflected, then
caught Janice's guilty expression. Hastening to reassure her
friend, she summoned a wan smile. "Don't blame yourself. It would
have happened with or without you trying to throw the two of us
together."

Angie moved a finger up to caress the baby's
chubby cheek. At her touch he blew out a bubbly sigh. Finally she
looked up at Janice. "Matt thinks I don't trust him."

This time it was Janice who stretched out the
silence. "Do you?" she asked very quietly.

In the next tree birds chattered noisily.
High above, golden sunlight crept through the twisted jumble of
branches and leaves. Angie looked out at the small pond nearby
where Kim, Casey and Nancy splashed near the shore, the puppy
yapping at their heels.

"I don't know," she said finally. "As much as
I wish I could, it's just not that simple."

"Because of Evan." Janice paused to consider
the situation, then spoke very gently. "I know how painful it was
for you before Evan died. Bill and I couldn't help but see what he
did to your marriage. Evan was... different. We saw the change he
went through when he lost his job, the pressures he put on you. We
saw him drifting away from all of us." The look she leveled at
Angie was oddly probing. "But I hope you're not thinking of Matt in
the same vein as Evan because they're nothing alike—and I think you
should know that better than anyone."

It was a disturbing conversation, but
nonetheless, the day's outing was just the therapy Angie
needed.

Tired from all the activity, Casey had
promptly fallen asleep the minute they climbed back into the car.
When they arrived home Angie chided her good- naturedly, giving her
a gentle slap on the bottom. "Come on and help like the rest of us.
If you're tired tomorrow, you can take a nap."

The mention of a nap almost always guaranteed
a state of instant wakefulness, and it didn't fail this time.
Grabbing a thermos, Casey scrambled from the car and trailed behind
Kim and Nancy toward the front porch.

Yes, getting out of the house had been just
the thing she needed, Angie reflected as she and Janice followed
the girls at a more leisurely pace. She definitely felt better.
Maybe not good, but definitely better.

It made the scene that greeted her inside the
house just that much worse.

Angie stood in the front hallway in stunned
silence. She could only stare in helpless disbelief at the total
destruction that met her eyes.

"My God," Janice gasped. "What on
earth..."

The living room had been completely torn
apart. Pictures had been ripped from the walls, cushions had been
yanked from the sofa and chairs and thrown aside. Bits and pieces
of glass and ceramics lay crushed and shattered on the carpet. It
appeared as if a giant arm had swept across the room, ruthlessly
crushing everything in its path.

A sickening wave of nausea swept over her.
She became dimly aware that Casey and Kim were crying. Nancy
looked just as frightened as she grabbed her mother's hand.

"It's okay, girls." Angie sent a wobbly smile
to Nancy, then bent and hugged Kim and Casey, grateful that someone
else demanded her attention. Gritting her teeth, she forced her
mind to function once more.

"Angie." Janice hadn't moved an inch from her
spot in the doorway, but her dark eyes scanned the room once more.
"Maybe you should call the police."

Angie nodded. With both girls clinging
tightly to her, she moved toward the small table in the corner. The
fragile, spindly legs had been smashed to smithereens. She picked
up the phone from the rubble. With trembling hands, she punched out
a number.

It wasn't until a masculine voice answered
that she realized who she had called. "Matt," she whispered. Weak
with relief, she sank to her knees on the floor.

"Angie. Angie, what's wrong?"

She tried to tell him--she really did. But
the only sound that emerged was a hoarse plea. "Matt," she choked
out. "Please come... please."

"I'll be right there."

They were the sweetest words she'd ever
heard.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Everyone jumped at the sound of footsteps
pounding up the porch steps. The screen was nearly yanked off its
hinges from the force used to open it. The front door burst open. A
huge, distorted shadow loomed....

To Angie, no sight had ever looked quite so
good as Matt's big frame filling the doorway. "Matt." Her shoulders
sagged with relief. She made her way toward him on legs that felt
like melted candle wax. "Oh, Matt, thank God you came."

His arms immediately closed around her. In
the seconds before he was surrounded by four other obviously
frightened females, Matt saw the wreckage that littered the living
room and entryway.

"Good Lord." He sounded as shocked as he
looked. "What on earth..."

It was Janice who managed a sickly smile,
bouncing the baby gently against her hip. "I already said that,
Chief." She went on to tell him they'd been gone all day and
returned less than ten minutes ago to find the house like this.

His fingers tightened briefly on Angie's
shoulders. He could see that she was badly shaken. Her face was
deathly pale, and he could feel her trembling in his arms. The
youngsters, he noted, didn't look quite as fearful as they had when
he walked through the door.

He smiled reassuringly at them, then looked
over Angie's head at Janice.

"Did you phone the police yet?"

She shook her head. "Angie wanted to wait
until after you came. I called Bill, and he's outside checking to
make sure there's no one still around."

Just then another door slammed, and Bill
walked in from the kitchen, his face grim. He nodded briefly to
Matt. "Everything's okay outside, and nothing's been touched
upstairs." He looked at his wife. "Show him the note yet?"

He stiffened. "Note? What note?"

Angie finally drew back to gaze up at him.
She was still pale, but her eyes were clear. "We found another
one," she murmured in a low voice so the children wouldn't hear.
"Stuck to the wall with a knife." How she prevented herself from
shuddering, she wasn't sure.