Summer Shadows (15 page)

Jordan raced to the side of the porch and waved his doughnut. “Hey, Mom, we’re up here. Mrs. Patterson’s giving us breakfast.”

“What? Were you begging again? You think we don’t have cereal?”

“Doughnuts and hot chocolate’s better.”

“Like she wants you two bothering her. Get down here!”

Abby winced at the strident tone. She walked to Jordan and smiled down at his mother. She had the Sophia Loren look with lots of black hair, a creamy complexion, and a figure to die for. She’d be a very pretty woman if she didn’t look so unhappy. “Come join us. We’re just having doughnuts and coffee or hot chocolate. There’s plenty to go around.”

Her anger undercut by Abby’s invitation, the boys’ mother seemed unsure how to act. “Oh. Okay, I guess.” She looked over her shoulder at the upstairs windows of her spectacular house. Abby looked too. The vague outline of a man could be seen through the darkened glass of one of the oversized windows. He appeared to be watching the boys’ mother.

“Bring your husband,” Abby invited before she remembered that Walker had said his mother and father were separated.

“Are you kidding? I don’t go nowhere with him.” She flounced over to Abby’s. Flounced. Abby watched, fascinated. She’d never
seen anyone flounce before. Shoulders and hips undulated at an alarming rate. Whiplash seemed imminent. Then, as she reached the bottom of the steps, she glanced at the upper windows again. When she was certain she was being watched, she tossed her head with disdain.

Like Mary Tudor haughtily sending Lady Jane Grey to the Tower and the ax
, Abby thought.
Whoever he is, he’s dead
.

“I’m Vivienne deMarco,” she announced when she reached the porch, holding out a hand with nails long enough to poke out an eye.

“Well, Vivian, I’m pleased—”

“No. Not Vivian. Vivienne.”

Abby listened to the heavy accent on the last syllable and nodded. “Have a doughnut.”

Vivienne shuddered, her hands moving to caress her hips. “Thank you, no. Cooked in fat.”

Abby nodded, thinking of the one she’d already eaten and the one she intended to eat. “A cup of coffee then?”

“No sugar or cream. You got any Equal?”

Abby shook her head. “Sorry.”

“I have some,” Mom said, diving into her huge purse. In a few moments she resurfaced, triumphant, a blue packet in her hand. Vivienne smiled her thanks as she ripped the package open and tipped it into her mug, her fuchsia fingernails flashing in the sunshine.

Breakfast went well in spite of the disparate collection of participants. Still, Abby was relieved when the clock showed nine-thirty. “Jess and I have to go to the hospital to get Karlee.”

“What hospital?” Mom looked alarmed, though Abby wasn’t certain whether at the idea that Abby knew about the local hospital after only one day in town, or that Vivienne was eyeing Dad with a predatory hunger. Dad, to his credit, seemed oblivious.

Jess jumped up to go with Abby. “He’s still staring,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at Walker to be certain she was reporting accurately. She was.

“He still likes you,” Abby whispered back.

“Yuk. Maybe he’ll be gone by the time we get back.”

“Maybe.”

The two walked to the car. As they climbed in, Abby glanced
next door. The deMarcos’ new house was built so that the first floor of living area was where a second floor would normally be. The ground floor was nonexistent. Instead the space held several pilings driven deep into the sand to support the house. The idea was to give room for a storm surge to wash right through without damaging or destroying the house. In the great storm of 1962, this end of the island had been hard hit by such a surge with scores of houses washed off their foundations. In some areas the ocean actually met the bay. Damages had been in the millions. New building codes hoped to stave off another such catastrophe.

In the open area between the many pilings were parked the deMarco cars: a BMW convertible and a rich-looking navy blue Lexus convertible with a dented gold grill.

A shiver went up Abby’s spine. She climbed out of her car and slowly circled the Lexus. Her breath caught when she reached the far side. There the damage was much more extensive than it had first appeared. The entire length of the car was scratched and smashed.

It looked just like it might if the car had careened around a corner and scraped along the sides of several cars as it tried to avoid a little girl crossing the street.

N
EVER SEEN A
car that needs body work?”

Abby jumped at the unfriendly voice and spun. She lost her balance with the quick motion and put out her hand to the car to steady herself, feeling the rough gouges in the metal under her palm. A big man with dark angry eyes and dark hair swept straight back from his forehead stared at her from the other side of the convertible, placing him between her and her own car.

“Such a shame, this damage.” She hoped she didn’t sound as unnerved as she felt. “It was a lovely car.”

“You’re an authority on cars, are you?”

His sarcasm was so sharp she flinched. What had she ever done to earn his ire? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just couldn’t resist looking.” She hurried to her own car, giving him a wide berth, not caring how badly she limped. Speed and distance were all that mattered. She was aware of him watching her. She shivered in spite of the warm day.

“Is that Walker’s father?” Jess asked in a small voice as Abby slid behind the wheel.

“I don’t know.” Abby grappled with her keys, which didn’t want to slip in the ignition. “Maybe someone besides Mr. deMarco rents the top floor, like I rent above Dr. Winslow.”

“He’s mad, isn’t he?” Jess stared at him with wide
eyes. “Daddies get mad. Then they leave.”

“Oh, no, Jess.” Abby’s hand stilled on the keys as she turned to the girl. “Lots of times men get upset about something, but they don’t leave. They work it out, especially Christian men who love Jesus.”

Jess looked skeptical, and why not? In her limited experience, men left.

Abby tried again. “My dad would never leave my mom no matter how angry he got at her. He made a deal when he got married, and he’ll keep it. Lots of men are like that.” Marsh would be like that, she thought. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

Abby glanced next door, catching the dark-haired man, eyes closed, shoulders slumped, running his hand through his hair. She started in surprise. He looked absolutely miserable and anything but threatening. Pity began to replace her fear. Something was upsetting him, and he was dealing with it by lashing out.

He must have felt her watching him because he straightened his shoulders, opened his eyes, and glared. Abby, overwhelmed at the animosity she saw, felt the blood drain from her face. She quickly averted her eyes. Her fledgling pity disappeared from one heartbeat to the next. There was no doubt; the man was not a nice man. But was he dangerous? Abby wasn’t taking any chances, especially with Jess in the car. Slowly she extended her index finger to the door lock, and pushed. All four locks snapped down.

The man heard the click. He took a step toward her. She stabbed at the ignition again. This time the keys slid home. She backed out of the drive with more speed than caution. She wouldn’t feel safe until she and Jess were several blocks away.

“Jess, would you reach into my purse and grab my cell phone for me?” Abby was pleased her voice sounded steady. “I also need the business card in the zipper pouch.”

Jess rummaged around for a minute before she pulled out the phone and the card. She held it to Abby who took it, pulled to the curb, and dialed the number Greg Barnes had penciled on the back.

“Mr. Barnes, this is Abby Patterson calling.”

He didn’t sound surprised to hear her voice. “Mrs. Patterson, how are you today?”

“I’m fine, but I just saw something you might want to check.”

Greg listened as she recounted finding the damaged Lexus. “I
know it’s probably nothing, but I felt I had to call. Besides, the guy was scary.”
Like a hit-and-run driver would be
.

“You did the right thing,” Greg said. “We’ll check it out.”

Abby felt the tension leave her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“I take it that seeing the car didn’t jog any memories loose?” Greg’s voice was curious but not hopeful.

The undefined feeling of failure that had been sitting passively on her shoulder much of the time since the accident reached out and grabbed her by the throat. She actually coughed. “I’m sorry. I wish it did.” With a sigh, she disconnected.

A small hand reached out and patted her leg. “Don’t feel bad, Mrs. Patterson. You’ll remember when God wants you to.” Jess took the phone, putting it back in Abby’s purse. “That’s what Mommy says.”

Abby wished she felt as certain as Celia.

At the hospital it didn’t take long to spring Karlee. Abby signed the necessary papers at the nurses’ station. When she and Jess got to Karlee’s room, the little girl was waiting in a wheelchair. She looked fragile and weary, but she giggled like any little girl as the orderly who wheeled her to the front door called, “Make way for Princess Karlee and her royal steed.” Abby doubted that Karlee knew what a royal steed was, but she certainly liked being a princess and having people wave to her as she rolled past. Soon she was settled in the backseat of the car, reclining on the pillow Abby had brought for just that purpose.

As they drove down Central, they passed a police car coming toward them. Abby tried to see if Greg Barnes was in it, but she couldn’t. Tinted glass. Still she didn’t doubt that it was coming from the deMarcos’. She started to sweat at the idea of seeing the man next door again. If he’d been angry before, what was he now that she had sent the police to his house?

It was with great relief that she saw no one as she pulled into the drive beside her father’s car. The damaged Lexus was where it had been when she left, but the irate man was gone. She’d half expected him to be lying in wait for her, yelling and screaming and furious.

She climbed quickly from her car, her goal to get Karlee and Jess upstairs before he reappeared. He had already frightened Jess once, and poor bruised Karlee had had more than enough trauma.

“Put your good arm around my neck, sweetie,” she instructed Karlee as she reached into the backseat for the little girl. “Jess, will you carry the pillow for me?”

Abby was straightening with her armful of child when a large palm slapped the roof of the car, making her jerk and smack her head on the top of the doorjamb. Jess and Karlee gave little screams at the abrupt sound.

“Just who do you think you are to sic the police on me?” His roar made Abby’s stomach drop. “What did I ever do to you to deserve that?” His scowl drew his eyebrows together in one fearsome line from temple to temple.

Abby straightened, Karlee in her arms. Her head throbbed where she’d smacked it, and fear made her mouth dry, but she looked at the man as calmly as she could manage. She had to for the sake of the children. She’d never forgive herself if somehow she added to their fear. “You’re frightening Jess and Karlee.”

The man blinked, seeming to see for the first time the little girls who stared white-faced at him. Karlee had Abby’s neck in a vise grip, and Jess pressed against the back of Abby’s legs as she tried to make herself invisible.

A look of bewilderment raced across his face, followed by what appeared to be genuine concern. “She’s hurt.” He pointed to Karlee.

“Yes, she is. Automobile. Hit-and-run.” Abby watched him for a reaction.

“Hit-and-run? That’s terrible!” Then his face turned red as he fit pieces together. He pointed to his car, so upset his hand was shaking. Then he pointed to Karlee. “You think I did that to her?” He looked stunned. “That’s why you called the cops? You actually think that if I hit anyone, especially a kid, I’d keep on going?”

“How do I know?” Abby wanted to yell at him, but she couldn’t get the words to come out.

“What kind of man do you think I am?” He was back to angry again. “I’ve got kids of my own!”

“What’s the trouble here, Abby?” Marsh strolled off his porch, coming to stand beside her. Without thinking she leaned toward him for protection, for comfort.

“She called the police on me,” the man said before Abby could figure out how to explain everything. This time there was more disbelief than belligerence in his comment.

Marsh extended his hand. “I’m Marsh Winslow, by the way, and this is Abby Patterson. These lovely ladies are Karlee and Jess Fitzmeyer. And you are?”

“Rocco deMarco.” He shook hands, then rubbed his hand along his jaw. His heavy beard rasped even though he’d obviously shaved that morning. His black eyes were stormy as he looked at Abby. “She called the cops on me!”

Abby lifted her chin and leaned closer to Marsh. She would not apologize. It had been a logical thing to do, the right thing to do, given the situation. She winced as her hip began to complain, shooting sharp pain darts across her lower back. With a start she realized she was placing unwise weight on her vulnerable side. Hoping Marsh hadn’t noticed her leaning into him, she straightened, cheeks flushed. Immediately her hip felt better but she felt vulnerable.

“I’m sure she had a good reason for making the call, didn’t you, Abby?” As he spoke, Marsh moved until his shoulder lightly brushed hers.

Thank you
, she thought.
Thank you for somehow knowing
.

“His car,” she said, nodding toward the vehicle. With disgust she heard the quiver in her voice. Still, she was doing better than the old Abby would have done. The old Abby would have gone to pieces with someone screaming at her. The new Abby was like Catherine of Aragon standing up to Henry VIII when he wanted a divorce. Catherine fought Henry, Cardinal Wolsey, and the Pope for eight long years and never did yield. All Abby needed was strength for a few more minutes. Of course, Catherine ended up in prison for years for her efforts.

Marsh ran a gentle hand over Karlee’s head. “Hey, Karlee, sweetheart. Remember me?”

She peered up at him without loosening her grip on Abby’s neck and nodded. “Church,” she whispered.