Devil Without a Cause (18 page)

“I see them,” she said. “That’s not something you see every day.”

“Dolphins are good luck,” he said lightly, “did you know that?”

“Are they?” She didn’t seem to want to look him in the eye. “For whom, I wonder?”

Chapter Twenty-­two

N
ate obviously liked him, and that worried her. When he’d seen the dolphins, it had been Finn he’d called out to, not her. He was usually a bit shy around men, since there were so few of them in their lives; Dr. Wynecke, Dina’s occasional boyfriend, the mailman—that was pretty much it. Yet this morning, when he awakened in a strange room in a strange bed, he hadn’t seemed the least bit worried once she’d explained they were at Finn’s house, and that he’d slept through the trip there.

Kids were so adaptable, so accepting. Why couldn’t she be that way?

Finn’s hair was spiked and sticky with salt water, and there was sand on his chest and shoulders from Nathan’s hands. Finn didn’t seem to mind holding him, even looked natural doing it—something she’d never expected to see, and it made her heart hurt. She swallowed, feeling as if she’d missed something that might’ve been important, had it been allowed to develop on its own.

But it couldn’t, because they had to get out of here—now, today. It had been a lovely, idyllic morning, but it wasn’t real. Reality was doctor appointments, bills to pay, and a bargain to keep if she wanted her son to live.

“I think the dolphins have the right idea,” Finn said, his voice breaking into her thoughts. “I’m starving. Anyone else?”

“I’m hungry, too,” Nate said, “but can we come back down here after?”

“We’ll see,” Faith said, before Finn could answer. She reached out to touch his knee, unable to help herself. “I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“Mommmm,” her son said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “I’m not a baby anymore.”

“Obviously not,” Finn told him staunchly, “but Mom’s in charge. What she says, goes.” He put Nate down, turning toward the house. “Let’s go raid the kitchen, shall we?”

Nate took off running, obviously still full of energy.

“Thanks,” she said to Finn as they followed at a walk. After what he’d just told her about his own mom, she was pleasantly surprised by the show of support.

He glanced at her, scooping his shirt from the sand as they passed the sandcastle. “For what?”

“For backing me up with Nate. A couple of months ago I wouldn’t have worried so much, but now . . .”

“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about last night? The clinic in Switzerland?”

She shook her head, looking away. It was a lie, of course. She’d thought about it, even though she’d tried hard not to. Not quite ready to spoil the day just yet, however, she took the easy way out and changed the subject. “Nathan!” she called. “Slow down and wait for us. You can’t go in the house all sandy like that!”

Finn didn’t press her, for which she was grateful. “There’s an outdoor shower on a side patio,” he said. “We can rinse off there.”

Not only was there a shower, but three big, fluffy towels were stacked on a lounge chair nearby. “Your invisible housekeeper is awfully efficient,” she told him. “There was a big tray of food outside our door this morning. I can’t believe Nathan’s already hungry again.”

“He’s a growing boy.”

And I’m going to keep him that way
, she vowed silently to herself.

“So where is everyone?” She tried to keep the question casual, but if she was going to find a way out of here, she needed to start somewhere. Maybe if a member of the staff knew that she and Nathan were here against their will, they could be talked into helping her. “Surely this place doesn’t run itself.”

He shrugged. “They’re around.” Lowering his voice so Nathan couldn’t hear, he added, “But they’re not going to help you, Faith. I pay them very well, in large part for their discretion.”

“Please,” she murmured, touching his arm. “You can’t mean to go through with this—you can’t keep us here. Time is running out.” She shot an anxious glance toward Nate, who was distracted by the little lizards in the bushes surrounding the patio. “There’s only one night left, and if I don’t . . .”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish.

“He’s a liar, Faith. Who are you going to believe, me or
him
?” He didn’t need to say who “him” was, and she was relieved he didn’t. He looked down at her, green eyes intense, compelling. “There’s still time to fix this; give me the ring and I’ll start making calls right away. We can both get what we want.”

How she wanted to believe him. How she wanted to think that somewhere out there lay the answer to all Nate’s problems—some doctor, some treatment. That her son could live, that Finn could live, that maybe even the three of them . . .

“No,” she said, firmly.
No time for fantasy, when reality was staring her in the face.
“I’m not going to take a chance on my son’s life.”

“Is mine so unimportant?”

“Of course not.”

“Why are you being so stubborn about this? I can show you the research about the clinic in Switzerland, you can interview the doctors, the former patients . . .”

“Stop it.” She raised a hand to her head, not wanting to hear any more.

“Faith.” A note of pleading entered his voice. “Be reasonable.”

“You didn’t see what I saw,” she whispered. “You didn’t see what he showed me.”

There was a silence between them, broken only by the splash of water from the outdoor shower as Nate turned it on, full force. “This is cold!” He giggled as he stood beneath it, letting it run over his head.

“I want to do as you ask, Finn. I . . . I care about you . . .”

“Save it,” he clipped, turning away. He grabbed a towel and headed down a garden pathway that led away from the house.

“Finn!” Nathan saw him leaving. “Where are you going? I thought we were going to get something to eat!”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Finn tossed over his shoulder. “The kitchen is right through that door. You guys go ahead without me.”

“But Finn—” Nate ran after him, soaking wet, before she could stop him. “You said you’d show me how to play the guitar, remember?”

He paused, and that was all the time needed for Nathan to catch up. The lump already in Faith’s throat got larger as she watched her son grab him by the hand, urging him to stop. He looked down at the boy, then bent so they were almost eye-to-eye. “I’ll be back,” she heard him murmur. “I just need some time to myself right now, okay?”

For a moment Nate looked like he might cry.

“Go with your mom,” Finn told him gently. “I’ll see you later on this afternoon.”

“You promise?”

Faith had to turn away at that point, unable to bear the hopeful note in her son’s voice.

“I promise,” Finn murmured, and then she heard the crunch of gravel as he walked away.

T
he kitchen was huge, gleaming tile floors and granite countertops. It was empty, but someone had obviously been there recently; the air smelled of fresh-baked blueberry muffins and ripe strawberries, both of which sat on a table by a window overlooking the sea. Three place settings, and a big pitcher of orange juice.

“This is a pretty house,” Nate said. “I wish we could live here.”

“Do you?” She smiled down at him, glad to see his spirits had revived after Finn’s abrupt departure. “As soon as I win the lottery, we’ll buy one just like it.”

He shook his head, moving toward the table. “Uh-uh. I want this one. I want you to marry Finn, and then we can all stay here and live happily ever after.”

The cheerful, matter-of-fact comment stole the breath from her lungs. “There’s no such thing as happily-ever-after,” she replied, more harshly than she intended. “It’s only in fairy tales.”

“You read me fairy tales all the time,” he said, unconcerned by her denial. “Oo, muffins! Can I have one?”

“Nathan.” She had to nip this in the bud. “We’re just here for a visit, and Finn is just a friend. Nobody’s going to marry anybody.”

“Why not?” He took a seat at the table, regarding her curiously. “Don’t you like him?”

She swallowed, uncomfortable. “Of course I like him, but that doesn’t mean I want to marry him.”

“
I
like him,” he said, reaching for a muffin. “And he likes you, I can tell. He’s always smiling when he looks at you.”

“He’s just being nice,” she said, wishing he’d talk about something else.

“Nope.” Crumbs flew as Nate talked around a bite of muffin. “You’re not paying attention, Mommy.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said automatically, reaching for a strawberry.

“He thinks you’re pretty,” her son said.

“Enough,” she scolded, appalled at how pleased she was at the thought.

“But you
are
pretty,” he insisted. “And besides, I don’t want you to be lonely if  . . .” He trailed off, taking another bite of his muffin.

“If what?” A cold finger of foreboding trailed her spine.

Nate just chewed, looking at her.

“If what, Nathan?” She didn’t like this, not one bit, but she had to know what he was thinking.

He finished his bite and swallowed. “You know, Mommy,” he answered simply.

“Nate.” She was out of her chair and on her knees beside his before she knew what was happening. “Nothing is going to happen to you.” His little arms were so slender, his chest so thin. She gripped him tightly by the shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I swear.”

“It’s okay, Mommy.” The look in his chocolate brown eyes was wise beyond his years. “The angel told me not to be afraid. He said he’d be there for me, whatever happened.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What—” She licked lips gone suddenly dry. “What did you just say?”

“The angel. He came to me last night while I was sleeping, and told me not to be afraid.”

Faith sank back on her haunches, stunned.

“He had long brown hair, like a girl’s, and his face was all bright and shiny.” He nodded his head, warming to the topic. “I’m pretty sure he had wings, but it was hard to tell, because he was so bright. I think I heard them flutter, though.” Taking another bite of his muffin, he regarded her calmly, obviously serious about what he was saying.

What was she supposed to say?
Deny that angels existed, and take away what had clearly been a comforting experience? Or agree with him, and acknowledge the possibility that if demons existed, so did angels?

She felt a flash of anger, and looked away so Nate wouldn’t see it in her eyes. If angels existed, then where was God, and why had He let this happen to them?

Silent, shaken, Faith got to her feet and slid back into the chair opposite Nathan’s. “That sounds like a nice dream, baby,” she murmured faintly.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he stated emphatically. “Well, it kind of was, but it wasn’t; it was real, I know it was.”

She didn’t want to argue. “Either way, it sounds really nice.”

“It was,” he agreed. “Can I have another muffin?”

One more muffin and a big glass of orange juice later, Nate gave a jaw-cracking yawn, his energy level obviously beginning to flag.

“Time for a nap, I think,” Faith said lightly, determined to behave as normally as possible under the circumstances.

“But Finn said he’d be back. He said he’d teach me how to play the guitar.”

“Later,” she replied. “He said later. Right now, I think we could both use a little rest, don’t you?”

Another yawn sealed the deal, so she got up from the table and held out a hand. “C’mon. Let’s find our room.”

They left the kitchen and entered a hallway that went both left and right. A quick peek to the right revealed an empty dining room with a table large enough for twelve people and bright, abstract paintings on the walls. They turned around and went the other way as Faith tried to mentally picture the way the house looked from the beach. If she was correct, the guest room they’d awakened in this morning would be just a few doors down. An open door at the end of the hallway proved her correct, and with a sigh of relief, she pulled Nate inside, then closed and locked it behind them.

“Let’s get you out of those wet shorts,” she said, both relieved and irritated to see a familiar SpongeBob backpack at the foot of the bed, right next to her own battered suitcase. In no time she had him changed and tucked beneath the covers with his stuffed dog, his earlier protests forgotten as his eyes drooped shut. Within minutes, his breathing was deep and even.

While he slept, she took a much-needed shower, leaving the door open between the bedroom and bathroom, and changed into clean clothes of her own: her favorite white T-shirt and khaki cargo pants. The ring was still in the pocket of her jeans, wrapped in foil, and though she briefly considered hiding it somewhere in the room, she couldn’t bring herself to leave it, so she slid it into a side pocket of her cargos, making sure the Velcro tab was securely closed.

“Time to find a way out of here,” she murmured to herself, touching Nate’s chest on the way to the door to make sure he still breathed. Old habits died hard when you were a mother, and she’d been doing that since he first came home from the hospital as an infant, so tiny and helpless.

Reminding herself that although he was no longer tiny, he was still helpless, she unlocked the door and slipped into the hallway.

There was no sound, nothing, but she knew the house wasn’t as empty as it looked. She flitted through it, her sneakers making tiny
snick
ing sounds on the tile floors. Most of the windows faced the beach, and all the rooms were beautifully decorated in varying shades of blue, beige, and gold. One thing that struck her was the absence of personal photos or mementos; the house looked like a designer showplace, without the finishing touches that would’ve made it a home. When she found the front door, she was elated, until she realized it was dead bolted, with no key. A couple of side doors were the same way, the only one unlocked being the kitchen door she’d used earlier. A staircase with a wrought-iron railing led upward, but she saw no reason to go that way, refusing to give in to her own curiosity. She wanted
out
, not up, and she felt enough like a voyeur already, creeping around all by herself.

A rumbling noise froze her in her tracks. She listened, hard, and then realized what it was—thunder, low in the distance. Glancing out a nearby window, she saw dark clouds on the horizon, where the ocean met the sky. It was still sunny out, but obviously wouldn’t be for long.