Lost and Found (21 page)

"Well, I guess that's settled," Lionel laughed nervously. "Quite a surprise. Who would have thought it?"

"This was a disgusting spectacle." Dodie's voice quivered with indignation. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Emmet."

Emmet swirled the amber liquid in his glass and nodded. "Yes, I am rather proud of myself. My only regret is that the rest of you aren't going to pay for your parts in this. I'd like nothing better than to be sending the whole lot of you postcards in San Quentin."

Dodie glared at him and then her eyes shifted to where Babs and Sam sat, his arms protectively around her. "I suppose it didn't occur to any of you to handle this in a more discreet manner. Do you have any idea the scandal this is going to cause?"

Babs lifted her head from Sam's shoulder and looked at the older woman, seeing the narrow face and the deep lines of bitterness as if for the first time. It hadn't occurred to one of them to ask how she was or to apologize for their part in all of this. Their only concern was how it was going to affect them.

"You know, Aunt Dodie, I sincerely hope the papers have a field day with this. If I'm lucky, they'll dig up the fact that you sold paintings to a known mobster and then Finney will get to take everything away from you. And, if that happens, I wouldn't advise any of you to come to me for help. I've finally realized that Uncle Emmet is absolutely right: None of you is worth a plug nickel."

She let her gaze move from Dodie's pinched expression to Lionel's nervous face to Lance, who at least had the grace to look away. They were all shallow, unhappy people and perhaps that was their punishment. She let her head fall back against Sam's shoulder, her strength draining away.

"Take me home, Sam. I'm tired."

Sam stood up, cradling her against his chest, his expression full of tenderness. "I'll take you back to the hospital where you belong. As soon as you're well, I'm going to kill you for this stunt." But the threat didn't hold much impact when he was holding her as if she were the most precious thing in his life.

❧

Babs pushed her thumb along the edge of a pea pod, feeling a sense of real accomplishment when the shell popped neatly open and the peas inside fell into the bowl in her lap. She tossed the shell into the basket beside her. Cecily said the empty pods were going into the compost pile, which was another mystery to Babs. It was funny how she'd managed to go her entire life without shelling a pea or seeing a compost pile.

She leaned back in her chair and reached for another pea, her eyes focused on the hillside that rose up from the backyard. In the month since the shooting, Sam had stripped the vegetation from it and was in the process of terracing the steep hill. It was as if he were doing penance for her injuries. If the hill hadn't been so overgrown, the killer wouldn't have been able to hide there. Babs had pointed out that Sam couldn't hold himself to blame. The man would simply have found somewhere else to hide. She might as well not have spoken. He'd continued to work doggedly, stripping every shred of cover from the sloping land.

Cecily had stopped her when she would have argued further. This was something Sam needed to do. Besides, she'd always wanted the hill terraced anyway. She'd smiled but Babs could see the worry in her eyes as she watched her son tear into the vegetation as if it were a malevolent presence.

She sighed. A month. It seemed like it had all happened in the dim and distant past. Her memories of the shooting were vague and unfocused, like images from a bad dream. Her memories of the confrontation with her family were more vivid but they'd taken on a surreal quality. Perhaps it was the only way her mind couid deal with the hurt.

She hadn't seen any of her family since the day the police had taken Clarence off to jail. Aunt Bertie had taken a trip to Europe. Babs had received one letter from her, apologizing for the things Clarence had done and saying that perhaps when she returned, Babs wouldn't mind seeing her. Babs held no grudge against her great-aunt. It was hardly Bertie's fault that her husband was a killer.

Clarence was awaiting trial. Emmet had been wearing a wire and the police had a complete tape of Clarence's confession, both to attempting to murder Babs and to killing her parents. The judge had set the bail high and no one had seen fit to pay it. When the time came, Babs knew she'd have to testify but that lay in the future.

Right now it was the present and the very near future that concerned her. Her shoulder was healed. The bullet had managed to go through without doing much damage. There was some residual stiffness and the doctors had warned her that it might be months before that faded completely. She flexed it. There were still twinges of discomfort but not enough to worry about.

"Does it hurt?" Babs looked over her shoulder, smiling at Cecily as the older woman stepped out onto the porch.

"Just a little stiff."

"You're sure?" Cecily laid her fingers on the injured shoulder as if she could tell by touch alone whether or not Babs was in pain. Babs shook her head, feeling a warm glow at the other woman's concern. Over the past few weeks, they'd grown close but Cecily's concern always surprised her. Since her parents' death, there'd been no one in her life to fuss over her. Emmet cared and he took care of her but it wasn't in his nature to fuss. Cecily fussed in the nicest possible way and Babs savored every moment of it.

"I was just thinking that it was about time I stopped pretending I was an invalid and got out of your hair."

"Don't be silly." Cecily sat down in a chair next to Babs and reached for a handful of peas, shelling them with quick efficient movements. "I've enjoyed having you here."

"You were very kind to ask me to stay here when I left the hospital."

"I wanted you to stay here. And so did Sam."

Babs looked away, her eyes showing a shadow of pain that had nothing to do with her shoulder. "I think Sam felt guilty about what happened and that's why he wanted me here."

"Sam wanted you here so he could keep an eye on you."

"Well, he's been avoiding me ever since." The words were out before she could call them back. She hadn't meant to say anything but the hurt went deeper than any physical injury.

Cecily reached out, touching the back of the younger woman's hand, her fingers light and gentle. "Men can be very peculiar. Sam has a lot to work out in his own mind but don't give up hope. My son may be a little slow but he's not stupid. He'll come around. Just be patient."

Babs picked up a pod and pried it open, lifting out each pea individually and dropping them into the bowl one after another. "I just wonder if he doesn't wish he'd never met me."

"Of course he wishes it." Babs's head jerked around and Cecily laughed gently. "He wishes it because you've disrupted his life and things can never be the same. Men are inherently resistant to change. But underneath the urge to hide his head and pretend everything is the same as it was, he knows just how much better his life is going to be with you in it. Just have a little patience."

"I hope so." Babs glanced at her, noticing a gleam in Cecily's eyes. "You look pleased with yourself."

To her surprise, the other woman blushed, the color tinting her cheeks a soft shade of pink. The peas were forgotten. Babs turned her full attention on her friend.

"What's going on?"

Cecily's smile deepened, her eyes soft and glowing. "Last night Emmet asked me to marry him and I said yes." She rushed the words, as if afraid they might not get out unless she hurried them.

"That's wonderful!"

"Do you really think so? We haven't known each other very long and I was afraid it might seem like we were rushing things."

"I think the two of you are perfect together. Uncle Emmet has been alone a long time. I can't imagine anyone more perfect for him than you."

"Thank you."

"Have you told Sam yet?"

"Just a little while ago."

"What did he say?" Babs toyed with the basket of peas, the task forgotten.

Cecily laughed, her happiness reaching out to light everything around her.

"Well, once he'd recovered from the shock, he said he was very happy for me. Poor Sam. I'm afraid he's had to make a lot of adjustments in his life." Cecily looked at her watch and stood up. "I have an appointment with the hairdresser in half an hour. Emmet is taking me out to dinner tonight so you and Sam will be on your own."

"Where is Sam?" She hoped that the panic she felt at the thought of being alone with him didn't show in her voice.

"He went for a drive. He said he'd be back before dark."

Babs thought about what Cecily had said while she dawdled over the peas. Be patient, give him time. Patience had never been her strong suit but she wouldn't have minded if she was sure that there was something to be patient for. Did Sam feel something for her? She knew what she wanted from him. She wanted his love. She wanted him to love her as much as she loved him. Wholly and unequivocally.

She stared out at the late afternoon sunshine, her eyes thoughtful. Was his mother right? Did he care for her or did he just feel guilty because she'd been shot? She wanted more than guilt from him. Lying in the hospital, she'd had nothing to do but think. She'd thought about her life, the death of her parents, her family. And she'd thought about Sam. He'd dominated her thinking, pushing his way into her mind. She wasn't sure she'd dealt with the issue of her family, and there was still an ache inside when she thought about her parents, but she'd come to several conclusions about Sam Delanian. He was stubborn, bossy and annoyingly male—but she couldn't imagine life without him.

The question was—did he feel the same way about her?

Babs had no idea how long she sat there, staring out at nothing in particular, the basket of pods sitting un-shelled in her lap. The click of the screen door opening brought her out of her thoughts and she looked over her shoulder, feeling her heart skip when she saw Sam.

"Hi."

"Hi." She had to clear her throat before she could get any sound out. She resisted the urge to smooth her hair or tug at the sleeves of her shirt.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. You know, you don't have to keep asking that. The doctors said I was going to be fine."

He shrugged, coming out onto the porch to lean against the railing.

"Habit. I guess I've gotten used to worrying about you."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me anymore." She busied herself with the neglected peas.

"I guess not." He didn't sound all that happy with the idea and Babs risked a glance up at him. He was staring out at the stripped hillside, his expression brooding. The sun was just starting to go down, throwing long shadows across the yard, leaving his face in shadow.

Babs felt a surge of irritation. Be patient, Cecily had said, but Babs didn't feel patient. She felt anything but.

She wanted to know one way or the other. If Sam didn't care for her, she had to know. Maybe a little judicious prodding was in order.

"Your mother told me she and Emmet are going to be married."

"Yeah, I know."

"I guess she'll be doing a lot of traveling with him."

"I guess."

She snapped a pod in half and dropped it into the bowl, oblivious of the fact that she had taken the peas out of it. She could have gotten more conversation out of one of the fence posts.

"You know, I've been thinking about it and I think it's time I moved back home." Sam's head jerked toward her. "I mean, my shoulder is basically healed and your mother is going to have enough to do around here without worrying about a guest."

"I wouldn't think you'd want to live in the same house with the rest of your family. Not after what they did."

"Oh, it's only temporary. I think it's time I got a place of my own. Don't you?" She snapped peas in half, tossing them back into the bowl or into the pile for compost without paying any attention to where they were going. She didn't lift her head to look at Sam. Was he relieved at the idea of her leaving? She couldn't bear to see it if he was. The silence stretched until she was sure she could count her every heartbeat.

"You know, I've been doing some thinking about it too." There was an odd note in Sam's voice and she didn't dare look up. "It seems to me that you're not really fit to be on your own."

Her heart sank. All he cared about was her shoulder. How could she explain to him that it wasn't her shoulder she was worried about, it was her heart? Maybe he didn't want to know.

"My shoulder is fine." She leaned forward to set the basket of peas on the floor, blinking to hold back the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. If he didn't love her, he didn't love her. There was nothing she could do about it. "I think I'll go up and wash my hair before dinner."

It was the first excuse that came to mind. Something to get her away from him before he could see her hurt. She stood up but Sam's hand caught her wrist as she turned away.

"Your hair looks fine and I wasn't talking about your shoulder." She stopped, not lifting her eyes from the floor, not breathing, not daring to hope.

"You weren't?"

"No."

"Then what were you talking about?" She looked up at him, wondering if what she felt was showing in her eyes, not even caring if it did.

"It seems to me that you need a full-time keeper. I don't think you're safe to be let out on your own."

His smile was gentle, his eyes bright with an emotion she was afraid to put a name to.

"Are you...are you applying for the job?" She could barely get the words out past the tightness in her throat.

"I might consider it but I've got some pretty tough requirements."

Her smile shook around the edges. "I could probably meet just about any requirements you might have."

"You probably could." He caught her other hand, drawing her forward until she stood between his outspread legs as he leaned against the railing. He set her hands on his chest and Babs thought she'd never felt anything more wonderful than the steady beat of his heart under her palms.

"I love you, Ms. Malone." His hand came up to cup the back of her neck and Babs closed her eyes.

"I love you, Mr. Delanian." She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her face alight with happiness. "I thought you were sick of me."

"Never. I've been trying to convince myself that this wasn't crazy." His thumb brushed across the dampness on her lashes and his expression grew more serious. "I could be a fortune hunter, you know."

Her smile told him how ridiculous that idea was. "If you're a fortune hunter, then I'm glad I've got a fortune to hunt."

His mouth caught her smile, tasting her happiness. Her arms slid around his neck and she leaned into the strength of him, letting him support her.

Sam dragged his mouth away, dropping kisses across her face. "You know I'm only doing this to keep you out of trouble. If I didn't look out for you, who knows what might happen."

"I know." His tongue traced the curves of her ear and Babs felt her knees melt.

"It has nothing to do with the fact that I can't bear to let you go."

"I know." His hands tightened on her back, pulling her closer as if trying to absorb her into himself.