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Authors: Francis Ray

BOOK: I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
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“After I have them stick out their tongues and make sure they haven't had them pierced, I will,” he returned, but he was smiling. “Well, I have to get back.” He came to his feet, then threw a glance at the phone. “Let the answering machine do its job and stop unplugging the phone. I came because I couldn't get you on the phone.”
She rose, the smile gone from her face. “I just wanted peace and quiet.”
Gordon glanced at Manda before speaking. “Take it from a man of experience, with a baby in the house, peace and quiet are a thing of the past.”
After a little over a week with her, Madison already knew that. Manda was growing accustomed to the house and to her. She was an active infant who could crawl almost as fast as Madison could walk. Madison decided she much preferred those times to the ones when Manda simply
stared at her with those hazel eyes that in turn mocked and lured.
“You all right?” Gordon asked.
“Of course,” Madison answered, wincing inwardly at the ease with which she lied, and at the same time pondering what would happen if the truth came out.
 
 
“I should hit you again.”
Zachary's gaze immediately went to Manda, the key ring clutched in her fist. “What's wrong? What happened?” He didn't wait for an answer; he practically snatched the baby out of Madison's arms and started examining her for himself.
Some of Madison's annoyance vanished when she saw the panic in his eyes. “Manda's fine. It's that caseworker.”
“She came back?” Zachary asked, his gaze no less worried as it zipped back up to Madison's face. Since their outing Sunday, she'd become distant. The past two mornings when he'd stopped by, she hadn't said four words to him.
“She went to the station,” Madison said, stepping back, then closing the door behind him. “She's doing a character check on me.”
“I'm sorry, Madison. I didn't think of that.”
She started toward the den. “Be thankful I can see that or I might just make good on my threat.”
There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she had spoken the truth. He'd seen the flare of anger in her eyes. Madison had a compassionate heart, but she didn't like being used. She wasn't going to be happy if she found out he hadn't contacted a private adoption agency. In his opinion there was no need. Despite her reservations, she and Manda were growing closer each day. “You're afraid someone may find out?”
“Yes.” She stared out the French doors toward Wes's miniature practice golf course in the back. “I don't think I could take the speculation and gossip now. You have to find her a home.”
“There's no reason for people not to accept the reason you've given for taking Manda,” Zachary said, coming up beside her. “In fact, I think it would be odd if you didn't want to have some contact with Manda, considering what happened.”
Madison turned. “Her eyes are the same color as Wes's.”
“Not many people are going to notice, because she shies away from them. Besides, lots of people have eyes that color,” he pointed out unnecessarily. “
You
didn't notice their color at first or suspect anything after you saw they were hazel.”
Her eyes flashed. “Stupid me.”
“You trusted him. You did what a wife is supposed to do.”
“Wives are always the last to know,” she said bitterly.
“Not always,” he said.
Her attention switched back to him. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“The children are the last to know and it hurts them far more than you can imagine and it keeps on hurting.”
 
 
Zachary's disturbing words stayed with Madison the rest of the evening as he played with Manda and got her ready for bed. Manda was quieter than usual and went to sleep right after eating. Almost immediately afterwards Zachary left.
Suffering was always worse when it touched a child. They had no defenses, no coping skills. Somehow it made her own anger seem trivial. Sitting in bed, the soft glow of the nightlight illuminating the crib, Madison's thoughts were chaotic. Was she being petty? Mean-spirited? She hadn't thought so at first.
Reaching for the phone, she dialed.
“Hello?”
She almost hung up when she heard Zachary's deep, distinctive voice.
“Madison?”
She had call blocker so he couldn't tell who she was. All she had to do was hang up. “I grew up thinking I'd have the perfect marriage, like my parents. Have two beautiful children, a boy and a girl, and live happily ever after.”
“We all have dreams, Madison, and it's hard when they don't turn out the way we want. But we can either accept it or keep holding on to something that will eventually destroy us.”
“Is that what you think I'm doing?” she questioned.
His sigh came through clearly. “It's not my intention to judge you.”
“But you have just the same,” she said tightly. “I can hear it in your voice. That's why you left early, isn't it?”
“Manda was asleep.”
He didn't say there was no reason for him to stay otherwise, but he might as well have. She was just someone to keep Manda. Her feelings or needs weren't to be considered, just like Wes hadn't considered how his adultery would hurt her. She didn't matter. “I see. Good night.” She hung up the phone.
It rang almost immediately.
She picked the receiver up before the second ring came, telling herself she didn't want the noise to wake Manda up. “Yes.”
“Madison, give yourself time.”
But in the interval, she had to live with the evidence of her husband's betrayal. “Is that what you did with your biological father? Gave it time?” There was a long, telling pause. “I'm sorry, I—”
“No, you have a right to ask,” he interrupted, his voice thoughtful. “I'm the one who keeps talking about facing the truth and getting on with your life. To answer your question, I'm not going to lie and say that it didn't rip me open that he didn't care that I existed. I wish he had, but nothing I could do or say will change that. I know that now. Dwelling on it only made me unhappy. I decided years ago that I had more important things to spend my time on.”
“Like building homes.” Silently she wondered if it was that easy to forgive.
“Yes. Houses and people share a lot in common. Both require care to be at their best.”
Madison glanced toward the crib. “She's sleeping quietly.”
“I meant you.”
The quiet intensity of his words touched her deeply and oddly pricked her at the same time. “I can take care of myself,” she blurted, then sighed deeply. “At least I could a long time ago.”
“My money is on you that you haven't forgotten. Go to sleep.”
“Why don't you come by for breakfast if it's not out of your way?” The invitation just slipped out.
“I'll be there.
If
we're having more than a bagel and yogurt.”
She smiled without thinking. “I suppose I might be able to come up with a bit more than that.”
“I'll be there, then, thanks. Good night, Madison.”
“Good night.” Madison took one last look at the crib, cut off the light,
then pulled the covers over her shoulder and drifted peacefully off to sleep.
 
 
Madison woke up to the ringing of the doorbell. She blinked, then sprang up in bed, her gaze going to the crib. Manda was still curled in a ball asleep under the light comforter. Madison looked at the clock: 7:05.
Zachary.
Throwing back the covers, she grabbed a robe from the foot of the bed on the way to the door. She was in the hall before unease stopped her and she rushed back in and stared down at the baby. She usually woke up before seven. Why wasn't she awake?
Fear congealed in Madison's stomach. Had the doctors at the hospital missed something in their exam? A co-worker in Chicago had lost a ten-month-old baby to crib death. Madison knew how fragile babies were. Dread clawed its way to her throat.
Manda's face was turned toward the wall and all Madison could see was the top of her curly head. With a trembling hand, she eased back the pink blanket. Her eyes strained to see the almost infinitesimal rise and fall of the baby's chest. But it was there. Weak with relief, Madison reached out and placed a trembling hand over the infant's chest, felt the warmth through her pink footed sleeper. She was all right, but what if she hadn't been?
With a lump in her throat, Madison went to answer the door. Zachary sat on the porch punching data into a handheld organizer. On seeing the misery in her eyes, he hurriedly got to his feet. “Madison, what is it?”
Shaking her head, she stepped back into the foyer.
Closing the door himself, he took her arms. “Talk to me.”
“I'm not a bad person,” she managed before the tears came. “I don't want anything to happen to her.”
“Of course not.” His hand swept up and down her back. She fit perfectly. “Don't be so hard on yourself if you make a misstep now and then.”
Madison unconsciously snuggled closer to his comforting warmth and his unending strength. “Why are you always so nice to me?”
His broad palmed hand continued to sweep up and down the curve of her back. “Because you deserve it. Now …” Stepping back, he tilted
her chin with his long finger. His smile was gentle and reassuring. “How can I help?”
She sniffed, using the heel of her hand to brush away tears from her eyes. “You already have.”
He handed her a handkerchief. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She dried her eyes. “I have two of your handkerchiefs already. I'll have a collection if I keep this up.”
“I have a drawerful.” He glanced down the hall. “If Manda is sleeping late, why don't you go back to bed? I can grab a bite on the way to the first site.”
“You're probably itching to see her. Go on. I'll start breakfast.”
Zachary went down the hall and into the bedroom. He saw the unmade bed and his thoughts went into an entirely different direction. Rubbing his hand over his face, he looked into the crib at the sleeping child. Much safer than thinking about the woman.
Positive his feelings were under control, he went into the kitchen. Madison flashed him a smile the moment she saw him. Her hair was tousled, her feet bare, her face free of makeup. She was the most desirable woman he'd ever seen, and if she found out he'd lied to her, she'd hate his guts.
“Don't worry. My cooking isn't that bad,” she teased, on seeing the worry in his face. She sat a stack of pancakes on the table.
“I'm not.” Taking his seat, he said his blessings and picked up a fork. Instead of eating, he looked at Madison and knew a hunger that no amount of food could satisfy.
He left immediately after breakfast, but all day his thoughts kept straying back to Madison. The next day wasn't any better. He fought the attraction, tried to deny the warmth her smile brought him, chastised himself for admiring the lushness of her breasts, for wanting to taste the sweetness of her mouth. Nothing worked. Each time they were together, the need for her grew.
Looking out the window in his bedroom Thursday night, he felt a loneliness, a restlessness that had become achingly familiar to him. He knew the reason. He just wasn't sure what, if anything, he planned to do about it.
G
ORDON CONSIDERED HIMSELF A strong, level-headed man, but when he saw Camille Jacobs waiting for him in the lobby of the station on Friday morning, the sharp slap of lust was totally unexpected and aggravating as hell. He liked nothing about her as a person. But the way she was put together was a different matter altogether. From her long legs to her sleek body encased in a straight black skirt that stopped just below her knees to the way the double-breasted blazer fitted over her high, firm breasts, he liked what he saw and detested himself for it.
He stopped what he considered a safe distance away. “Ms. Jacobs.”
“Mr. Armstrong.” Her response was just as abrupt and cool as his had been.
His gaze strayed to her mouth painted dark and sassy and looking much too tempting. The frown on his face deepened as he tried to figure out why he couldn't control his growing desire for a woman he disliked.
Neither spoke, simply stared at each other like two opponents squaring off on opposing sides of the arena.
“Do you draw a line in the sand or shall I?” she quipped.
The corner of his mouth tilted upward before he could stop himself. He usually enjoyed a sense of humor in a woman. He didn't want to appreciate anything in Camille Jacobs.
He handed her the sheet of paper he carried. “This is a list of people who work on
The Madison Reed Show
, their title, and general location. All have been advised of your coming.”
She tilted her head. “Advised or warned?
“In your case, it's the same.” She had a mole on the corner of her
mouth. It wasn't difficult to fantasize about running the tip of his tongue over it, then into her lush, waiting mouth. “I believe you've already met Robert Howard. He'll show you around the studio,” he said, indicating the young college student standing directly behind her.
“Yes, his was the first friendly face I've seen.”
Gordon's mouth tightened. “If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment.”
“I'll be generous and excuse you for both reasons.”
He noticed the anger in her brown eyes and clamped down on a sudden need to comfort. “I beg your pardon?”
“That'll be the day.” With a curt nod, she walked away.
Gordon's gaze followed, somehow dipping to the enticing sway of her rounded hips. He snarled. There should be some unwritten rule that social workers couldn't have bodies like that.
She stopped and looked back. “You coming?”
He blinked, trying to figure out if her comment was as sexual as he thought it was when the young intern he had assigned to show her around rushed forward. The college student practically tripped over his feet in his eagerness to get to her.
“Yes, Ms. Jacobs, I'm sorry.”
Despite the annoyance she felt at Gordon, she smiled at the nervous young man. “No harm done, Robert. I believe Kurt Owens, the set director, is first on the list. If you'll lead, I'll follow.”
He nodded eagerly and rushed off. Camille followed and, feeling Gordon's gaze on her again, she added just a dash of sass to her walk, wishing she could look over her shoulder to see his reaction.
Stiff-necked jerk. But he was a good-looking one. And it irritated her to no end that she was bothered by his low opinion of her. But she'd do her job. To do less was unconscionable.
 
 
Louis Forbes knew how to work an interview and he had chosen his interviewer well.
Helen Bass wanted what Madison Reed had, and was willing to do whatever it took to get it. Her show was falling in the ratings and there was talk of cancellation or worse—in Helen's competitive opinion—
replacement. If she could get a scoop on Madison, it would be a feather in her cap. And if that information was detrimental in some way, so much the better.
The station bigwigs were nervous that Madison might leave at the end of the year. After Wes's death their nervousness had increased. To Helen's disgust, Madison's popularity had grown. She wished Madison would disappear off the face of the earth and, of course, Helen could be
her
replacement. She couldn't see why everyone fell all over themselves for Madison, anyway. Helen knew she was much more attractive and wittier.
The program manager just kept sticking her with lousy guests. Today would be different. For once they agreed, for different reasons of course, to have Louis on live instead of the taped segment of her at a boring literacy read-in with elementary school children. How was
that
going to help ratings?
“It's always tragic when death strikes anyone as talented and young as Wes Reed. He'll be missed and Madison is devastated,” Helen said, with just the right amount of sorrow and pity. “I, for one, hope this won't affect her decision to remain in our midst.”
Louis sat across from Helen and almost clapped his hands in glee as she gave him his opening. “Madison's future is secure whatever her decision, but that's not her main concern at the moment.”
“It isn't?” Helen leaped like a frog on a fly.
“No. It's Manda.”
“Manda?” Helen was unable to hide her surprise. “Who's that?”
Louis, against all rules of interview, looked straight into the eyes of the cameras and saw the owner of KGHA in Chicago give him a blank check for Madison. “Manda is the nine-month-old infant Madison who, despite her grief, has assumed guardianship of. Just as Wes Reed gave his life to save the mother, Madison is giving the motherless infant the same selfless love and devotion. The legacy of love continues. Two more braver and compassionate souls never lived.”
Helen tried valiantly not to show her anger, and some viewers might not have seen it past their own shock. At the moment she didn't care. Louis, the prick, had set her up. All she could try to do was salvage what was left. “I'm sure the viewers feel the same as I do. We all send our prayers and well wishes out to Madison and Manda. That's all for
Noon Day
. Please join us tomorrow.”
With jerky movements Helen unclipped the mike from the lapel of her fuchsia-colored Albert Nipon suit and dragged out the wire. She'd bought a new suit just to be dumped on. She could chew nails.
“Is your mike off?” Louis asked.
Tight-lipped, she considered leaving it on, but something in Louis's eyes had her switching it off. “Yes.”
“Work with me on this and when Madison leaves for Chicago, guess who will be my new client who'll take her place?”
Helen's eyes widened. She'd tried for over a year to get Louis to represent her. In certain circles, the agent was just as important as the client.
“I'll be in touch.” Taking a cigar out of his silver case, he stuck it in his mouth and walked off, a smirk on his face. Women were such fools.
Helen wore the same smirk. Louis Forbes wasn't the type of man to be generous. There was more going on here than met the eyes. If it involved Madison Reed, Helen was going to make it her business to find out. Louis Forbes wouldn't catch her off guard again.
 
 
Angrier than he had been in recent memory, Gordon came out of his office at a fast clip. Co-workers, eternally thankful that he didn't stop to speak with them, hurriedly moved out of his path as he made his way downstairs to the first floor where the set for
Noon Day
was located. He had left his office the instant he'd seen Louis Forbes's smug face. He hadn't expected whatever the weasel had to say to be good. Unfortunately, he'd been right.
Rounding the corner, he saw the agent heading toward the lobby. “Forbes!” The name was like the crack of a rifle.
People turned, saw Gordon's face, then quickly decided they had business elsewhere. Forbes looked over his shoulder, saw Gordon and had the good sense to hasten his steps toward the front door. It didn't do any good. Gordon easily caught up with him, and drew him into a narrow alcove.
“What the hell were you thinking doing an interview on Madison and Manda?”
Louis didn't like the sudden perspiration under his arms any more than he liked Gordon Armstrong. He liked it even less that he was afraid. He
had fought hard never to know fear again. “How I handle my clients' affairs is none of your business.”
“It is when your client happens to work for me and you use a show at this station to further your own selfish career,” Gordon said.
“I've done no such thing,” Louis denied, trying to ignore the sweat sliding from his underarms. “What Madison's done for this child is to be commended.”
“And it never occurred to you that it would sway public opinion toward her and possibly increase her marketability and thus fatten your bank account?”
Louis managed to look appalled. “What kind of person do you think I am?”
Gordon's eyes narrowed, then he smiled and told Louis exactly what he thought in explicit, crude language.
The agent's eyes bugged. “I don't have to stand here and take this.” He tried to push Gordon and found him immovable.
“Hear me good, Louis. Let it alone. Madison has enough to deal with without you making her caring for Manda a publicity stunt.” Gordon leaned closer. “The social worker is no fool. You mess this up for Madison and you'll answer to me.”
“I can handle the social worker.” Louis waved his pudgy hand dismissively.
“You're not only arrogant, you're stupid if you believe that.” Gordon stepped aside. “Don't let me see you here again unless you've cleared it with me first.”
“You can't keep me out of here,” Louis railed.
Gordon crossed his arms. “We both know I can. When it comes to Madison's welfare, whose side do you think the boss will take?”
Doubt flickered in the other man's dark, shifting eyes. “Madison knows I'm working on her behalf.”
“You don't even believe that lie yourself. Now get out of my sight.”
Louis turned to leave, then abruptly faltered as he saw Camille Jacobs, eyes narrowed and obviously angry, a few feet away. He quickened his steps, nodding, but not making eye contact as he passed.
Gordon had seen angry women before, but none that seemed to seethe. Slowly he walked toward her as if he were approaching a live bomb.
“Thanks,” she said.
“For what?” he asked, although he already had a pretty good idea.
“For not thinking I'm as stupid as Mr. Forbes thinks.”
“Louis thinks he's superior to everyone.” She sidestepped to let two women pass, and moved closer to Gordon. His gaze centered on the little mole, then her enticing mouth again.
Camille found drawing in air difficult and wasn't sure if she was ready to admit the cause. She stepped back, hoping that would help. It didn't. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Armstrong. I'm finished interviewing.”
“So you won't be back?”
“No.” She wanted to believe she heard regret in his voice, but she knew better. He wanted her gone. “The people I interviewed had nothing but high marks for Ms. Reed,” she said. “No one I spoke with seemed particularly surprised by her helping the child. Ms. Reed has a reputation for helping others in need. Although I'm not particularly pleased with the way the announcement was handled.”
Gordon's mouth tightened. “Madison had nothing to do with that!”
“Have you spoken with her to know that for a fact?”
“I don't have to,” he snapped. “I know Madison. At the moment she just wants peace and quiet. She won't get it after today. Nothing the media likes better than a tragedy.”
“Perhaps it's best she's tested now instead of later?” Camille mused.
“What are you talking about?”

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