Cavanaugh’s Woman (14 page)

And for as long as she wanted after that.

Moira looked down at her nails, checking to see if she’d broken one in the last scene.

If she was busy getting immersed in other people’s lives, maybe she wouldn’t notice that her own was going to be empty all too soon.

She thought of Shaw. The way she did at least a hundred times a day.

“How do you do it?”

Moira jumped. It was as if she’d just conjured up his voice. Composing herself, she looked over her shoulder just as he walked up to her.

“What are you doing here?” Reese was right behind him, looking around. He clearly looked as if he wanted to remain.

With the unconscious familiarity of a lover, Shaw lightly laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’m actually here on official business,” he told her, “but you were busy, so I decided to wait.” Before she could ask what kind of official business he could have with her, he said, “That scene you just did had nothing to do with the last one.”

“All movies are shot out of sequence,” she told him. “They’re trying to make use of the locale, so we’re shooting all the scenes in front of City Hall today.” She nodded at the ivy-covered building that had been standing for over ninety years.

He and Reese had come on the set just as she’d ended one scene and then launched into the last one. “How can you hop around like that? It’d take me all day to build up to what you just did.”

Reese laughed. “It’d take him all year and he would still sound like someone had done a lobotomy on him just before he opened his mouth.”

Moira laughed as she rose from the folding chair. “So, what did you come to tell me?”

Shaw scanned the area until he found who he was looking for. It had been one of those days that made him glad he’d chosen the career he had. “Actually, we came to tell Amy she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Moira made the connection instantly. “You caught the guy behind the prostitution ring?”

The last tip he and Reese had followed up on had paid off. “Got enough on him to put him and the people in his organization away for a long, long time. She doesn’t have to be afraid anymore,” he repeated. “When the time comes, we are going to need her to testify, though.”

Moira nodded. He wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t expected. “She won’t be hard to find,” she told him. “She’ll be staying with me.”

Shaw assumed she was talking about the hotel. “This isn’t going to be for a while. The law moves a hell of a lot slower than any of us would like. I’m talking about after the movie’s made.”

The hairdresser came to fuss over her hair, but Moira put her hand up to stop him. “Give me a few minutes.” She knew Shaw would want to talk to her in relative privacy. The hairdresser stepped back. “So am I,” she told Shaw.

“So what, you’re adopting her?”

“Giving her a job. As my assistant.”

He saw Carrie standing off on the side. “And your sister?”

“She’s my stand-in.”

Just how far did her largesse extend? “Even when you’re not filming?”

“Then she’s my sister.” He came from a big family; he knew how it worked. “Carrie can stay with me for as long as she wants to.”

“I didn’t know you ran a day care.”

“I don’t.” Was he trying to pick a fight with her? Why? They had so little time left together. Why was he trying to spoil it? “It’s called family. Ask your dad about it.”

“Amy’s not your family,” he pointed out.

“Amy needs a family. Besides, I like her. She’s a great kid. Nobody ever took the time to notice, that’s all.”

It wasn’t working. He was trying to find a way to push her away and all he’d succeeded in doing was wanting her more. Wanting her with a swiftness that took his breath away. Wanting her because she made his heart swell for so many different reasons.

Although Reese had stepped back to give them a little privacy, it wasn’t enough. He leaned in to her, lowering his voice. “When can you get away?”

Her eyes twinkled. She looked toward her trailer parked over in the distance. “I’ve got a lunch break coming up.”

“Might not be long enough.” Not for what he had in mind.

“Hey,” she kidded, “I’m the star. They’ll cut me a little slack.” It was all she could do not to wind her arms around his neck, but she knew he’d hate having an audience observe them.

That he was tempted showed him just how much this woman affected him. “I’m on duty.”

She sighed. “I know. But there’s always tonight. We can run lines.” She looked at him significantly. “Or anything else you want.”

What he wanted was for the interlude not to end. For her not to return back to Los Angeles. For her not to leave his life.

The realization didn’t really startle him. He’d felt it creeping into his consciousness for a while now. It was just not something he allowed himself to readily admit. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He looked back to where Amy had been standing a moment ago, but the girl was gone. “Now, where can I find Amy?”

“C’mon,” she told him, “we’ll find her together.”

Together. It had a nice ring to it. He knew he was deluding himself, something he never did, but he did like the sound of that.

Together.

Being together with her.

But because his mother had disappeared out of his life so suddenly, he’d grown up believing that nothing was permanent. And this certainly was no different. He’d enjoy the moment—what he had—and when it was over, when it was behind him, he’d move on. Everyone in life moved on. They did that or they died. There was no other choice.

Chapter Fourteen

E
ven as Claire approached the tub with its bright, Wedgwood-blue tile, a feeling of dread descended over her. It was the same every morning. A cold iciness would pass up and down her spine at the very thought of what lay ahead of her.

She didn’t like water. Never went to the beach, never took those long, luxurious baths other women raved about. To her, the sight of water in anything other than a glass or shallow pot instantly brought fear with it. Claire knew her phobia was unreasonable, bordering on the insane, but it was something she had never been able to conquer.

Faced with a body of water, she always saw her own death.

Unable to come to grips with her pathological fear, Claire worked around it. She washed her face with a washcloth and took showers. Quick ones with the showerhead aimed low because she particularly didn’t like getting any water on her face.

Washing her hair always presented a challenge. She did it in the sink, where she could control the flow and the direction of the water.

Claire shed her robe. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the bathtub, then closed the sliding door behind her.

The feeling of being trapped immediately hovered over her.

Bracing herself, she went to move the showerhead downward. It wouldn’t budge. Someone had returned it to its original position and now it resisted being moved. She tried it again, but it was stuck. Muttering under her breath, Claire pushed against the metal until the head bent down again.

Three minutes, just three minutes, that’s all she needed.

Mind over matter, Claire projected herself three minutes into the future, then turned the faucet on.

Standing in the kitchen, about to start preparing breakfast, Andrew looked up at the ceiling. The floor above his head had creaked and then he heard the sound of the sliding glass door being closed.

She was up, he thought. That meant she’d be down for breakfast soon.

This morning, the house was empty except for him and Rose, or Claire, as she called herself. Just like in the very beginning, he thought with a sad smile. Neither Rayne nor Teri had come home last night. Rayne was out on an all-night stakeout and Teri was spending the night at Callie’s place. The two were going over wedding plans.

Weddings. He shook his head, smiling. Without comparing notes, it turned out that all four of his children’s weddings were clustered together in the same month. When he’d found out, he’d made the suggestion that they all take place on the same day. He’d gotten summarily shot down, only to have the idea resurrected again shortly thereafter.

Consequently, Callie and Brent, Clay and Ilene, Rayne and Cole and Teri and Hawk were all getting married in a month.

A month.

He wondered if Rose would still be here then. She’d mentioned two months when she came, but yesterday, she’d said something about having to return up north to her job. To her life.

The taste of bitterness filled his mouth. Her life was here, with their children.

With him.

But so far, there was no way he could get her to see that.

Because she was still Claire and not Rose.

Brian had told him he might have to get used to his wife’s condition. He knew his younger brother was just trying to be helpful, but he didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to try to make peace with the idea that she would never be the woman he loved. Never be Rose again.

And then, because the realist coexisted with the idealist, Andrew paused, thinking.

Maybe he should try to build a new life with this stranger he’d discovered living in Rose’s body. Because he knew in his heart that his Rose was still in there somewhere. He could hear Rose in the way Claire laughed, could see her in Claire’s eyes. And whether she answered to “Claire” or “Rose,” she still had that endearing tilt of the head when she was pondering on something.

If he could just get her to love him again, no matter what name she answered to, then maybe—

Andrew stiffened, the first of the eggs he was about to break over the bowl falling from his fingers to the counter.

He heard a scream.

The sound carried through the vent, seeming to vibrate through the very floor. The water was running and Rose was screaming.

Andrew broke into a run.

He didn’t even stop to think, to try to figure out what was going on. He was on the stairs in a moment, flying up them two at a time.

In less than a heartbeat, not standing on ceremony, he’d rushed into Callie’s old bedroom.

The bathroom door was closed. As he tried it, he found it locked.

“Rose, are you in there?” He pounded on the door when she made no answer. “Rose, what’s wrong?”

She was still screaming. The sound curdled his blood.

Andrew put his shoulder to the door and hit it as hard as he could. The simple lock gave, splintering the jamb as the door flew open. The next instant, he flung open the sliding door and pulled her out. She screamed and gasped for air.

There was water everywhere. The showerhead had somehow broken off and water sprayed the entire room. Andrew was soaked in an instant.

With one arm wrapped protectively around Claire, he reached into the tub and shut off the water. Water dripped into his eyes. She was shaking like a leaf. Andrew grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her as best he could, then took the second towel and threw it over her shoulders.

Claire stopped screaming. Instead, she began to sob uncontrollably. Not knowing what else to do, Andrew sat down on the closed commode and took her onto his lap. Holding her, he began to rock to and fro, trying as best as he knew how to soothe her.

“It’s all right, you’re safe now. Just an old showerhead coming apart, that’s all, nothing more.” Andrew had no idea what had gone on in her head, only that he’d never seen the kind of fear he’d glimpsed on her face when he’d pulled her out.

Very gently, he took the edge of one of the towels and wiped her cheeks.

He knew all about her phobia. She’d admitted it to him the first day she’d arrived at the house. He had given her a tour of the house and pointed out the remodeled bathroom, telling her that she’d have exclusive use of it during her stay. When he’d gone on to show her Teri’s cache of bubble bath crystals, she’d told him she’d have no use for them.

“I only take showers,” she told him quietly. “Quick ones. I hate getting water on my face.”

It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know why. He’d figured it had to do with the car going over the side and into the river. But the look in her eyes when he began to say as much had him holding his tongue. Instincts told him not to push it, so he’d retreated.

He resisted the urge to tighten his arms around her now. To hold her the way a man held the woman he loved. Instead, he held her as if she were a child, to be protected and comforted.

“I’m sorry about that, Claire. Really sorry. I’ll put a new one in right away. Maybe I should have a plumber put it in because I’m not overly handy when it comes to this kind of stuff. I—”

He stopped abruptly as she turned her head up to his. There was this look in her eyes he couldn’t begin to fathom. It was wild, and yet somehow centered, as if she were struggling to focus on something.

“Rose,” she whispered.

She’d said the name so softly, he wasn’t certain that he had heard her correctly. Thought that maybe it was just his heart speaking. “What?”

She swallowed, her throat sore, her voice hoarse. Tears felt as if they were gathering inside her entire body.

“Rose,” she repeated. “My name is Rose.” And then tears spilled out onto her already-dampened cheeks. “I remember. Oh, my God, I remember.” She covered her mouth with her hands, afraid that she would begin sobbing again. All sorts of emotions scrambled through her. “Andrew, I remember. I know who you are. I know where I am.”

How long had he dreamed about this? Hoped for this? He was afraid to believe it was true.

“Are you sure?” Andrew held her by her shoulders, anchoring her in place. “Oh, God, Rose, you remember?”

Stifling another sob, she nodded. Words began to flow from her lips as quickly as the water had from the pipe when the shower head broke off.

“Everything.” To prove it, she began to recite the events of the last day that she had been Rose Cavanaugh, excitement building in her voice. “The car, it went over the side. The door was stuck, I couldn’t get it to open. You know how you always had me lock the doors whenever I drove the car. It went into the water. I thought I was going to die there.

“And then I finally got it open, but I was so far down in the water, I didn’t think I could make it back up to the top. I thought I was going to drown.” She blinked, trying to put the kaleidoscope of events swirling through her brain in order. “But I must have gotten out somehow.” She looked at him, shaking her head. “I guess I just blacked out. Someone stopped to pick me up. He drove me somewhere and then tried to…tried to…”

“Don’t.” Andrew knew this was too much for her. He didn’t want her handling the ordeal in her fragile state of mind.

But she shook her head, doggedly continuing. “He tried to rape me. I managed to get away before he could.” She closed her eyes, gathering the memories together. “I remember walking, just walking. I was cold and wet and scared and I didn’t know who I was.”

And then she opened her eyes again, looking at him. Everything finally made sense after all these years. “I must have walked all the way to Lucy’s diner. She came running out when she saw me through the window. Lucy and her husband took me in. I remember being sick.”

He listened, wanting to interrupt in a dozen places, knowing he couldn’t. She needed to get this all out at once. So she could finally put it behind her.

“Lucy found me a place to stay and gave me a job.” A fondness entered Rose’s voice. The pair were the only two people she allowed into her life in all this time. “She and her husband have been very good to me.”

Choked with emotion, Andrew felt as if his throat would close up. He’d come so very close to losing her. Too close.

“Remind me to thank them.”

She looked at him, seeing him perhaps for the first time, this man who had loved her all these long years. “You never gave up hope, did you?”

“Never.” Still holding her on his lap, he closed his arms around her. “Everyone tried to tell me that the evidence all pointed to your body being washed out to sea. I didn’t care about the evidence. In my heart, I knew you were out there somewhere. And that I had to find you.”

She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her. As if she were a bird that was allowed to fly again after being tethered for such an extremely long period of time.

“Oh, God, Andrew, I’m so glad to be home.” Fresh tears filled her eyes. “I’ve missed you. Even when I didn’t know it was you I was missing, I missed you. There was always a piece of me that wasn’t there.” And then, along with her memory came the reason for the argument that led to her departure in the first place. “You have to know that Mike and I never—”

Andrew placed a finger against her lips, silencing whatever was to follow. She didn’t need to say it. He didn’t need to hear it.

Love and gratitude filled every available space within him.

“I know. And even if you had, it doesn’t matter. Do you understand? It doesn’t matter. Looking for you these past fifteen years has taught me what really counts and what doesn’t. And all that counts is having you home again.”

Unable to contain her emotions any longer, Rose wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, kissed the man who had moved heaven and earth to find her when she’d been so lost.

Kissed the husband she’d loved since the beginning of time.

Moira looked on at the vast collection of people milling around in Andrew Cavanaugh’s backyard. She’d been to bigger parties. Despite the fact that there were people in the house, as well as outside, and that Teri had confided to her that practically the entire Aurora police force, active and retired, along with their families were in attendance, she had been at affairs where this party could have easily been tucked into a small corner.

But Moira knew without being told that she’d never attended anything that was remotely happier in nature.

No, she mused, taking a sip of her wine, not even that last Oscar party, the one where the best actress had gushed on for almost ten minutes to any and all who had the misfortune of crossing her path. That had been stylized happiness.

This was quite different in nature. It was without pretense. Just plain, unadulterated joy. It made her happy just to be here, just to share the unabashed emotion that hummed throughout the area.

She looked around for Shaw. He kept being drawn away, but she spotted him and made her way over.

“Thanks for inviting me,” she said when she finally reached him.

He looked up, as if he was surprised she’d found him. Shaw shrugged carelessly at her words. “Can’t take exclusive credit for this. It was really my father’s idea.”

“And you wouldn’t have if he hadn’t told you to?”

From where she was standing, there was no other way to interpret his words. What was going on? They’d made love just last night, as they had every night while she’d been filming here. But this afternoon, he was acting as if being around her was putting him out.

He looked annoyed at her question. “I thought you might have better things to do.”

“Something better than witnessing joy up close and personal?” she asked incredulously, looking back at the guest of honor. Rose Cavanaugh stood beside her husband. The two looked more like newlyweds than a couple that had been married over thirty-three years. “I don’t think so.”

Shaw frowned. “You’re getting ready to leave tomorrow,” he reminded her.

She was more than aware of that and more than a little sad about the prospect. She didn’t want to leave. Not this town, which contained memories for her of a happier time in her youth, not this family whom she was just getting to know and like—and not this man, who remained a puzzle to her but one whose pieces she wanted to reexamine at length.