Together With You (14 page)

And they'd come to her apartment, too.

If she hadn't cooked dinner for Ryan and the kids, she would have walked straight into blood, screams, and mayhem. Did she thank God for sparing her or question Him for taking Bette in such a violent, awful way? Carly knew the theology of good and evil, but she never could reconcile suffering and hope, especially in the face of tragedies like this one, or Allison's, or her own mother's early death. All Carly could do was try her best to make the world a better place.

Trembling, she thought of how sweet Bette was to the children
at the bakery. Her small, gentle life had consisted of work, Sunday visits to her old, small church, and movies on her old box television. She didn't have children, just a niece who lived in Omaha. Carly had the number in her phone.
“Just in case of
an emergency,”
Bette had said.
“When you get older and
you're alone, you worry about things like that.”

She didn't have to worry anymore.

And in that small fact, Carly found consolation. For all her doubts about God's ways here on earth, she believed in heaven with her whole heart. Fresh tears flooded her eyes, but this time they washed away a bit of the pain.

When her sobs ebbed to shaky breaths, Ryan loosened his grip but kept his hands on her arms, rubbing gently to soothe her. “Get your cat and what you need for tonight. The boys and I will move the rest on Saturday. You're living in from now on.”

There wasn't a cell in her body that wanted to argue with him, yet even as she nodded, her brain screamed a warning. Ryan was off limits to her heart for every reason imaginable—geography, their different world views, the risk to Penny and even to the boys, because they needed to see their father as a man of integrity, not a man who took advantage of the nanny. She'd accept his offer to live in, but she'd fight her feelings with all her might.

Stepping back from him, she wiped her eyes with her fists. “Thank you. I'm grateful to have a place to go.”

He hooked a thumb toward the closet. “Get what you need. I'm going to call Kyle to tell him we'll be late.”

“Good idea.”

While Ryan spoke to Kyle, Carly filled a duffel bag with clothes, gathered cat supplies, then lured Wild Thing out from under the bed with a treat. She put the cat in the carrier, fetched her Bible off the shelf, and added it to the duffel. She didn't understand God at times like this, but she'd been born and raised a Christian. She knew there was comfort to be had in God's Word.

Ryan picked up the duffel and cat supplies, leaving Carly with Wild Thing meowing pathetically in the carrier. Shifting things a bit, he opened the door, and they stepped outside. Detective Hogan approached, empty-handed. “I'm sorry, but there's no sign of Ms. Gordon's cat. It probably ran off at some point.”

Carly blinked back fresh tears. Tom was an indoor cat, fourteen years old and declawed. He couldn't survive on his own. “He might come back when things settle down. I'll check for him tomorrow.”

“I hope you find him.” The detective handed her a business card. “Call if anything new comes to mind.”

She pocketed it just the way she'd pocketed the card from Ryan a month ago.

Laden with her possessions, Ryan led her down the street to his car. The crowd had thinned, and only a few unmarked police cars remained. Lights glowed from nearby apartment windows, and night-blooming jasmine filled her nose. The helicopter was long gone.

Life had returned to normal, but it was a terrible normal. Carly didn't waste her breath asking God why. Instead, she silently vowed to do whatever she could to hold back the tide of ugliness. Her arms sagged with the weight of Wild Thing in the carrier, and she thought of Tom. Tomorrow she'd come back and attach posters on telephone poles. Carly's record for saving lives was abysmal, but she refused to give up hope, even for a cat.

O
n the first Sunday morning after Bette's murder, Carly awoke to pinkish light pressing through the white blinds in the nanny room, her room now. The past four days were a blur of conversations with the police, Bette's niece in Omaha, and Carly's own father, who had threatened to hightail it to California and fetch her home.
Home.
She craved the peace of her father's porch and her mother's kitchen. Instead, she was under Ryan's roof and exquisitely aware that he had held her while she cried.

A brother would have done the same thing, she told herself as she climbed out of bed. But Ryan's embrace didn't feel at all brotherly. She'd lost herself in that moment, and she'd been grateful for his strength, even the bossy way he demanded she come home with him. He had also bought a battery for her car and test-driven it himself before declaring it safe to drive.

Yawning, she glanced at the boxes she needed to unpack and gave silent thanks to everyone who helped with the move, including Fran, who stayed at the house with Penny. In spite of the sadness, Carly had managed to smile a few times, mostly at Ryan and the
boys razzing each other, then at the excitement of the neighbors who took her furniture off her hands. Best of all, Tom had meowed at her door and consented to come home with her.

She blinked and recalled other good moments: Ryan bringing her a Coke and giving her shoulder a squeeze; his hand on her back when he found her crying over a box of tea from Bette; the way his muscles rippled in the black T-shirt; and that strong chest—

“Stop it!” she muttered. Indulging in schoolgirl fantasies about her boss was just plain foolish.

To distract herself, she glanced at Tom on the foot of her bed while Wild Thing slept on a pillow. The cats knew each other enough not to snarl, but they weren't friends yet. Carly gave them each some love, then remembered her promise to call her father before he left for church. After another yawn, she pressed his number. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, baby-girl. How'd you sleep?”

“All right.” Except for her dream about Ryan in that snug T-shirt. The man looked good in black, good in anything.

“Are you there, Carly Jo?”

“Sorry, Daddy. I drifted a bit.”

“It's no wonder. Any news from the police?”

“Nothing.” She had spoken to Detective Hogan a few times, but he wasn't at liberty to share details. Without Bette passing along gossip from the store, Carly was as disconnected as a passing car.

Her father cleared his throat. “Thank the Lord you're not there anymore. If I'd known how bad that neighborhood was—”

“Daddy, don't.”

“I worry about you, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

“How are things with the Tremaines?”

If her father heard even a trace of her attraction to Ryan, he'd pry the truth out of her even if it meant flying to L.A. to do it. “Things are good.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I'm glad I'm here.”

There was a long pause, then a grunt. “So am I, sweetheart.”

Awash in homesickness, Carly choked up. “I wish I could be in church with you today. I'd sit in the second pew just like I used to do with Mama.”

A faint hum traveled over the phone. “You look like her, Carly Jo.”

“I know.”

“She was something else, and so are you.” He paused. “I don't like you being so far away, but like your mama used to say,
‘Our kids are on loan to us.'
”

“I know, Daddy. But it's temporary. I'll be back home before you know it.”

“We'll celebrate with your mama's fried chicken.”

Tears flooded her eyes in a swirling torrent. “Oh, Daddy—”

“What's wrong?”

“It's just . . . just . . .” She didn't want to talk about the pepper joke or Ryan and the kids. “It's just too much right now.”

“I wish you had family out there. Or at least a real friend.”

Ryan's face shimmered in her mind, and her belly tightened with the memory of being in his arms. “I think maybe I do. Ryan has been wonderful this week.”

Her father's
humph
gusted over phone. “So it's Ryan, not
Ryan and the kids
.”

Until now, she'd been careful to talk about Ryan only as part of the family. In the upset, she'd slipped. “He's a good man.”

“A believer?”

“No.”

“Be careful, Carly Jo. God gave you a big heart. I'm proud of you for it, but I worry, too. Sometimes you try too hard to fix things that can't be fixed.”

Her brows snapped together. “What do you mean?”

“There are things in life only God can handle.”

She wondered what he meant but lacked the mental energy to ask. “I'll be careful, Daddy. I promise.”

They chatted another minute, then said good-bye. Carly dressed in khaki shorts, a white shirt, and her daisy flip-flops, then headed to the kitchen to wait for Ryan so she could ask permission to take Penny to church—not a typical church, but one with the sky for a roof and sand for a floor.

When she walked in, he was already at the Keurig. Dressed in lightweight sweats, he hadn't shaved or showered, a side of him she hadn't seen before.

She didn't waste time on pleasantries. “I'm headed to church this morning. I'd like to take Penny.”

He lifted a brow. “You don't have to take her. I'm here.”

“I want to.”

“Can she handle it?” The coffeemaker finished with a gurgle. Ryan lifted the mug and sipped while peering at her over the rim. He looked sleepy and ragged, and she wondered if he, too, had been plagued by dreams. He studied her for a moment, waiting for an answer. He probably thought church would be crowded with people and buzzing with conversations, things too stimulating for Penny.

“She can handle the church I have in mind,” Carly told him.

“Where is it?”

“At the beach. It'll be just the two of us.” And the gulls and the waves. Carly was a Kentucky girl down to her marrow, but she loved the ocean. During those times when her guilt over Allison swamped her, walking on the beach restored her equilibrium.

Ryan finally shrugged. “Sure, why not? Take her.”

“We'll be at Will Rogers.” The state beach was at the end of Temescal Canyon Road and Carly's favorite spot in Los Angeles.

Ryan paused with the mug halfway to his lips. For a moment she thought he might offer to join them, and her heart gave a little leap. She'd say yes if he asked. She needed a friend today, and after all, they were going to church. But Ryan didn't ask. Instead, he tossed
the used K pod in the trash and walked out of the kitchen with his cup in hand, saying nothing and somehow leaving a chill in the air.

Penny loved riding in Carly's car, even if she had to sit in the back in her booster seat. They were on the curvy road to the beach, and if she stretched her neck like a giraffe, she could see the water. She was wearing her pink swimsuit under her clothes, and Carly's big canvas tote held sandwiches, apples, slimy lotion, and a big black book with Carly's name on it in gold letters. She'd also brought Penny's orange life vest.

“You have to wear it,” Carly told her. “But even with it, you can't go in the water past your ankles.
And
we have to hold hands the whole time.”

Penny loved to swim. Thanks to lessons from Carly, she could go all the way across the pool like a mermaid. Carly said the ocean was different. “It's not for swimming, but we can watch the waves from the sand.”

Penny didn't care about waves and sand. She just liked being with Carly. But then she remembered what Aunt DeeDee said. Penny's mommy was in heaven now, but Aunt DeeDee had spread her love all over the ocean, and Penny could visit her there. Her heart made so much noise, she heard it in her ears. Unable to contain herself, she kicked her feet against the seat in front of her.

Carly looked at her in the mirror. “Press your hands together, okay?”

That was their signal to remind Penny to sit still. She did, but only for a minute because then she forgot. When she kicked again, Carly said her name. This time Penny remembered all the way to the parking lot.

“Good job,” Carly said when she stopped the car.

Holding Penny with one hand, Carly fetched the tote bag from the trunk. Side by side, they walked what felt like a mile to a spot
where they could see the waves, but the water wasn't too close. The first thing Carly did was buckle Penny's life vest on her. “Remember, stay with me,” Carly said. “The ocean isn't for swimming.”

Penny looked at the waves and thought of her mommy going in a boat with Aunt DeeDee. Maybe she'd come back on a boat. In the distance she saw little ones with white sails. Maybe a boat like that took her mommy to heaven. While Penny watched the boats move on the water, Carly spread the blanket into a square. Penny wanted to run somewhere, jump high, eat an apple or dig or . . . a bird landed right in front of her, and she ran after it.

Carly chased her, lifted her up, and flew her in a circle, laughing until they almost fell down. Carly squeezed until a big breath hissed out of Penny's lungs, and she relaxed, forgetting everything except the warm sand under her feet.

“Let's sit for a minute.” Carly guided her to the scratchy blanket. “Before we play, I want to thank God for this beautiful day.”

Penny yelled at the top of her lungs, “Thanks, God!”

Carly laughed. “I think He heard you. Do you know that God has a name? He knows us, and He understands how we feel. We're special—each one of us.”

Penny didn't want to be special. She wanted to be like her friend Bethany, who was already in first grade. “I don't want to be special.”

“But you are,” Carly said. “So am I, and so is your daddy.”

“Is Eric special?”

“Yes, and so is Kyle.”

Penny didn't understand. She loved Kyle, and even Eric acted nice sometimes. Both of them were big and strong, and they knew how to work the television. They didn't forget things like she did, and no one ever told them to stop fidgeting. Carly's words didn't make sense. “Are they special like me?”

“Not exactly.” Carly cupped Penny's face in her warm hands. “You have to try extra hard because of how your brain works.
It's not your fault.
” She squeezed Penny's cheeks even tighter. “It's
not your fault, Penny. But it does make you special in a way that's sometimes hard.”

“I know.” That's why she visited Miss Monica.

“There's more to it.” Carly took her hands off Penny's face. “We all make mistakes and have to learn things—”

“Like sitting still.” That was Penny's hardest thing to remember.

“Exactly.” Carly smiled at her. “You know how your daddy takes care of you, how he makes sure you have what you need, and he hugs you a lot?”

Penny nodded.

“God is like that, too. He's our Father. He even has a special name. It's Abba. That means Daddy.”

Penny didn't have a daddy until Dr. Tremaine. She liked it when he played with her in the big swimming pool, and yesterday they went to the little park, and he pushed her on the big-girl swing. He said something about it being on his list, but she didn't understand.

Carly tucked a piece of Penny's hair back in her ponytail. “God loves you so much, honey.”

Her mommy said things like that, too. Aching inside, Penny looked out to the ocean. A bird flew by and she followed it with her eyes to the big puffy clouds. She wasn't sure, but she thought maybe God lived in the clouds. “Maybe it's okay to be special.”

“Oh, it is.”

Carly kept talking, but Penny didn't hear all the words. Instead, she stared at the clouds and went breathlessly still—something she rarely did. But the sky was so pretty. “Heaven is in the clouds.”

Carly didn't answer.

“It is,” Penny insisted. “Will you paint clouds on my ceiling?”

“That's a wonderful idea,” Carly said. “But it would be hard to paint the ceiling. How about clouds on your wall?”

“Okay.” Penny looked out to the line where the sky touched the bluish water. She saw lots of boats with sails, but none of them were coming in her direction. Did her mommy know she was here?
Maybe she had to be in the ocean to feel her mommy's love, and for her mommy to know she was here. The life vest rubbed against her skin, reminding her that she had to hold Carly's hand.

“Can we touch the water?” she asked.

“As long as we do it together.” Carly stood and took Penny's hand. Her fingers were warm and dry, and Penny liked how her little hand felt in Carly's bigger one. They walked down to the water but stopped on the edge of the wet sand.

“The tide's coming in.” Carly pointed to a big white wave. “If we wait right here, the water will touch our toes.”