Heart of the Night (51 page)

Susan knew what Sam was getting at. In an attempt to help, she said, “You must have had quite some Easter to get a bunny like this. Did your grandma make dinner?”

“Mommy did,” the little girl told her.

“Were your grandma and grandpa there?”

Courtney nodded.

“Who else was there?”

“Just my daddy.”

“Any aunts and uncles?”

Courtney shook her head, then said in that small, high voice, “I don't have any of those. Betsy Winters says I can have some of hers. She hates them.”

Sam remembered all the times he'd tried to send things to his niece, and he felt a sudden urge to take the child in his arms. But she'd made it clear that he frightened her, so, instead, he said, “You have an uncle now, Courtney. I'll take good care of you.”

“I want my mommy.”

“Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

“I want my mommy.”

“How about a Kit Kat? I'll bet we could find one somewhere in a machine.”

“I don't want
your
Kit Kat,” she said. Her chin was beginning to tremble. “I want my mommy's.”

Susan's heart was breaking, not only for the child but for Sam. He was doing his best to put the little girl at ease, but he hadn't had much practice with children. And even if he'd been an expert, he wasn't at his best. The family he hadn't seen for fifteen years, but had held in his heart far longer than that, had suddenly been tom from him. He was in mild shock.

Susan shot a beseechful glance at the policewoman, thinking that maybe she'd know something brilliant to say. But the woman was younger than Susan, wore no wedding band, and had “I'm only the courier” stamped on her face. Even as Susan looked at her, she glanced at her watch.

Courtney continued to stare at Sam. “Is he a boy or a girl?” she asked no one in particular.

Grateful for the diversion, Susan answered. “Sam? He's a boy.”

“But he's got long hair. Only girls have long hair.”

“Boys do sometimes. Sam's is only long in back. I kinda like it.”

“I don't. I don't like him. I don't want him for my uncle.”

The policewoman did speak then, showing more insight than Susan would have credited her with moments before. “I think you're being used as a scapegoat, Mr. Craig.”

Sam could understand that. It didn't make things any easier for him, though. Nor did thinking how much better things would have been if the child had known him. That was water over the dam.

But something had to be done. Marshaling his thoughts, Sam reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his badge and identification. “My name's Sam,” he told Courtney, “just like Susan said. I'm a detective with the police department.” He offered the leather folder that held the badge and ID to the child. “Want to hold it?”

Courtney was still looking wary, but she did raise one small hand to take the folder.

“I don't wear a uniform,” Sam went on, “because that scares people off sometimes. I try to look like just anybody on the street.” As he said it, he realized that wouldn't make any sense to the child. If she'd never seen a man with long hair, she wasn't going to believe that he looked like just anybody on the street, and he wasn't about to tell her about rapists, pushers, and pimps. “Do you really think my hair's too long?”

Courtney nodded.

“I could cut it if that would make you feel better.”

She moved her head and shoulder in a way that said she didn't know whether that would make her feel better or not.

“Maybe you'll think about it and let me know,” he said.

Without giving an answer, Courtney looked at Susan. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Susan swallowed, then stood. “Okay.” She slid her damp palms down the sides of her jeans and held out her hand.

Courtney looked up at the policewoman, who said, “You go ahead. I'll bet Susan's even better at pajama snaps than I am.” She held her hand, to which Courtney still clung, out to Susan.

“I'm
great
at pajama snaps,” Susan said as she took the child's hand. Knowing that the policewoman would be gone before she returned, she mouthed a quick “Thank you,” then turned to Sam, who had risen also. “Why don't you go down the hall?” she suggested softly, cocking her head in the direction of his mother's room. “Courtney and I will take our time. We'll go exploring. Maybe we'll even find some hot chocolate and doughnuts.” She gave the child's hand a playful tug. “How does that sound?”

Courtney made the same I-don't-know gesture with her head and shoulder, but the neutrality of the response didn't bother Susan at all. She was feeling an odd sense of control. And she was helping Sam.

He knew it and was grateful. After fifteen long years, he wanted to spend some time with his mother. There were things he wanted to say to her, whether she heard him or not, before she died.

Seeking a bit of Susan's warmth, he curved his hand around the back of her neck. His eyes showed the thanks that he couldn't put into either a smile or words. He did manage a small smile for Courtney because he knew how much she needed it. Then, with a knot in his throat, he watched the two of them head off down the hall.

His mother died late that afternoon. He'd been with her through most of the day and was holding her hand when her heart finally stilled. Aware of what had to be done, he forced himself through the business of arranging for the funerals. He spent a sad hour walking through the house he'd grown up in, then joined Susan and Courtney at his sister's house, less than a mile away.

Late Thursday night, Susan reached Savannah at Jared's. “I didn't want you to worry,” she said after she'd explained where she was and why, but that was only one of the reasons she'd called. She felt as though her own life had taken a drastic turn. She needed Savannah's levelheadedness and encouragement.

“I feel so badly for Sam. He's crushed.”

Savannah, who loved Sam in her own platonic way, grieved for him, too. “How's he handling it?”

“He hasn't broken down and torn at his clothes, if that's what you mean, but he's in awful pain. It's there in his eyes. Who wouldn't be? He's just lost both of his parents and his only sibling. And he's become the father of a child who's as upset as he is.”

“Does the little girl know the truth?”

“Sam told her tonight. He figured he had to, but I'm wondering whether it would have been better to have a priest do it. Courtney's decided that Sam's the bad guy in all this. She doesn't like him very much, which doesn't bode well, considering that she's going to be living with him for the next thirteen years.”

“Then he'll be bringing her back to Providence?”

“There's no one else at all. He has some distant cousins; there are some on his brother-in-law's side. But none of them know Courtney. None are even close enough to know what's happened. And even if some one of them offered to take her, I doubt Sam would let her go. And he shouldn't. She's his sister's child.”

Twirling the telephone cord around her fingers, Susan spoke in a loud, desperate whisper. “What am I going to do, Savvy? I'm not ready to be a mother. I have enough trouble wondering whether I can be what Sam wants, and now all of a sudden this little girl comes along. She's adorable. I really like her, and she's taken to me more than she has to Sam, for what it's worth. But she's a
child,
Savvy. She's little more than a
baby.
I'm
lousy
with kids. What am I going to do?”

“First off,” Savannah said, “you're going to calm down. You won't be any good to anyone unless you do.”

“You don't understand,” Susan went on in that same frantic half-whisper. “She has to be taken
care
of. I'm talking the most basic needs. While Sam was at the hospital this morning, Courtney and I came back here. I had to help her get dressed. I had to make her lunch. I had to figure out something to do to keep her busy. She needs help taking a bath and brushing her teeth and combing her hair. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Sam may not be thinking about it yet; he's still trying to deal with the shock of the deaths. But I'm thinking about it. Courtney needs a room to sleep in. She needs clothes. She has to be enrolled in school. She has to be looked after while Sam's at work, and you know what his schedule's like.”

She paused to take a breath. “I mean, talk about putting pressure on a relationship. I'm not sure where I stand with Sam. He's never mentioned marriage. I'm his lover. That's it. His lover. So what happens to that, now that he's an instant father? What am I
doing,
Savvy?”

Savannah used the silence that followed as a buffer between emotion and reason. “What you're doing,” she said slowly and gently, “is helping Sam cope with an incredibly frightening situation.”

“I'm scared to death myself. How can I possibly help him?”

“You did it today. You took care of Courtney. You might not know what to do with a child, but you managed today. She survived, didn't she?”

“Barely.”

“Barely is better than not at all. The poor child must be feeling lost and lonely.”

“So am I. Sam's sound asleep. We were up all last night, and today's been a nightmare. But he sleeps while I sit here and worry.” She moaned, then muttered, “God, I need a drink.”

“That's the
last
thing you need. You have to be able to think straight.”

“I'm not sure that'll help. I'm telling you, Savvy, I'm in over my head.”

“You are not. You can handle anything you set your mind to.”

“
You're
the one who can do that. Not me.”

“Yes, you. Come on, Suse. You have an incredible opportunity here. You love Sam, don't you?”

“If I didn't, I'd have been long gone by now.”

“So if you love him, you'll make things work.”

“You're not
hearing
me, Savannah. I don't know
how
to make things work.”

“You'll learn. You'll take one day at a time. You'll feel your way along.”

“Yeah. Right along the ground in the dirt. And I'm apt to bring Sam and Courtney right down there with me.”

“You can
do
it, Suse. I'm telling you. You can
do
it!”

“I'm glad someone believes in me.”

“Sam does. Otherwise, he'd never have brought you along. He needs your help. And don't you see? This is your chance to show him that you can do what needs to be done. It's your chance to show
yourself
that you're perfectly capable of being what Sam wants.” She hesitated, then spoke more softly. “I'm envious of you. You can really have it all.”

Of the many words Savannah had said that night, those were the ones that lingered longest with Susan.

C
HAPTER
21

Megan had admired Savannah from the very first of their academy days. While Susan was the more gregarious, perhaps the more exciting of the two, Savannah had been the one with the level head on her shoulders. She was the one the others sought out when things got rough, and Megan had done her share of the seeking.

Technically, Megan was bright, and she knew it. What she didn't always know was how to channel that intelligence along the most productive lines. Savannah, on the other hand, was a master of the overview. She could stand back and analyze a situation, then suggest the best course of action.

Megan had consciously studied Savannah's approach. She firmly believed that if she could master it, she'd have the world in the palm of her hands, and for a while, it looked as though she'd done it. She graduated from the academy near the top of her class, went through college with similar ranking, and landed a plum of a job as the mathematical consultant to an electronics conglomerate headquartered in Boston. While she had no intention of working her life away, her job gave her exposure to some of the most successful entrepreneurs in the Northeast.

She hadn't made the most of that situation. Though she was a math whiz, she was far less sure of herself socially. She'd been intimidated by some of the men she'd met, turned off by others. When, totally out of the professional context, she met gentle, unimposing William Vandermeer, she readily fell in love.

For several years, she was unabashedly happy. She didn't work, and she didn't miss it. Then the business began to flounder. She helped Will out where she could, but the downward spiral continued. When things got so bad that Will was taking pills to sleep and she spent half the night worrying herself sick, she took a leaf from Savannah's book, analyzed the situation, and came up with the one solution that seemed to hold hope of returning things to where they'd been.

It would have worked had it not been for Matty Stavanovich.

Now Matty was in prison awaiting trial, and Megan felt a measure of satisfaction in that. She was furious whenever she thought of him, and when she wasn't furious, she was afraid. She'd covered her tracks; she was sure of it. But she didn't trust Stavanovich. She'd done that once. She wasn't making the same mistake twice.

Between fear, anger, and a guilt that never left her for long, she wasn't good for much of anything but wandering aimlessly through the house. She didn't want to go out, didn't want to be seen. Everyone in town knew what had happened. She couldn't bear the thought of their stares. So she stayed within the protective walls of her house and agonized.

Stand back. Look at things from a distance.
That was what Savannah always said, and Megan tried to do it, but she'd never had to face anything like this before.

Take it step by step, day by day.
Savannah always said that, too, and while Megan was a little more successful there, she still found it hard.