Trouble in Tourmaline (Silhouette Special Edition) (7 page)

Amy joined them, saying, “We made it.”

“A triumph of bravado over sense,” he muttered.

She made a face at him.

“They sort of smell,” Sarah said, “but I got used to it.”

Both adults laughed.

Later, they found a county park that bordered the Carson River and laid claim to a picnic bench. When they finished eating, Sarah got to throw the remnants of the subs to the wild ducks swimming in the river.

“Look, they like me,” she said.

“Do you know why?” Amy asked her.

Sarah shook her head.

“Think about what you’re doing.”

“I’m giving them bread.”

“Yes, you’re feeding them. What do you think will happen when you run out of bread?”

“They’ll get mad at me.” Sarah’s voice was sad.

“Not exactly. They’re hungry so they’ll look for food somewhere else, yes, but it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with ducks. That’s how ducks are. They don’t like people, they like the food people throw to them. So don’t be upset when they swim away.”

When the bread and the ducks were gone, the three of them walked back toward the truck. “We’ll stop and say hello to your great-aunt Gert on the way back,” David said once they were in the pickup.

“She said she didn’t have crazies in her house?” Sarah made it sound like a question.

“You know how when you get sick sometimes you have to go to the doctor and then you get better?” Amy asked her.

Sarah nodded.

“Sometimes people’s bodies don’t get sick, but their mind does, so that they can’t think quite right. Your great-aunt is the kind of doctor who takes care of people’s minds instead of their bodies. When people’s bodies get really sick, they have to go to a hospital to get better. It’s the same with people’s minds. If their minds get really sick, they go to hospitals that take care of minds. So your great-aunt doesn’t have anybody sick in her house with her.”

“Oh.”

“I work with her,” Amy continued, “taking care of people with troubled minds. I lived in her house
until I found my apartment, so I know your great-aunt as a friend. She’s a nice person.”

“She said she liked me.”

“Well, she’s certainly not a duck you’re feeding, so you can believe she really does.”

David saw Sarah looking at him as though for confirmation. With some effort he put his annoyance at Murdock for causing this problem aside. Choosing his words carefully, he said, “Sometimes grown-ups say things they shouldn’t. Calling people with troubled minds crazies is like giving them a mean nickname.”

“Kenny calls me Speedy ’cause I can’t run fast,” Sarah said, looking away from them. “He makes fun of me all the time.”

What kind of nasty brat would pick on a girl with a limp? Whoever Kenny was, David wanted to kill him.

“Kenny’s a boy in your class at school?” Amy asked. At Sarah’s nod, she added, “Kenny’s what’s called a bully. He thinks the kids don’t like him so he picks on everyone.”

“He’s mean.”

“That’s because he has a troubled mind and no one is helping him to get over it.”

David well knew Amy’s explanation was right, but he still had an urge to shake the stuffing out of the kid.

“I still don’t like him,” Sarah muttered.

“Why should you?” Amy countered. “It’s very difficult to like those who pick on us.”

“Mommy says I should like everyone.”

“Did you tell her about Kenny?” David asked.

“No.”

David glanced at Amy. What the hell was he supposed to say now?

Amy gave him a little nod and said to Sarah, “If your mother knew about Kenny she might feel differently.”

Let off the hook, David decided there was a lot to be said for having a psychology expert aboard. Especially one who was a chorus girl lookalike.

At Gert’s house, they found her sitting on the front porch.

“We’ve all had a camel ride,” David said.

“I’ve never had the courage,” Gert said. “Come sit here on the glider with me, Sarah, and tell me how the ride went.”

Somewhat reluctantly Sarah obeyed. “I had to ride with my daddy,” she said.

“Because he was too scared to ride alone?” Gert asked.

The little girl looked directly at Gert for the first time, saw her smile and seemed to relax. “We were both kind of scared,” she admitted.

Gert reached for a box on the low table alongside the glider, opened it and handed the box to Sarah. “I thought you might like these to play with.”

Sara began removing tiny cups and saucers. “I don’t have any doll dishes,” she said. After a moment, she added, “Thank you.”

Gert turned to David. “There’s a doll buggy in the attic you might want to bring down for Sarah. And, Amy, you remember the twin baby dolls I had on the dresser in your room? Why don’t you fetch them.
Sarah and I will lay out the doll dishes to have all ready for the twins. Then they can take a nap in the buggy.”

David’s glance at his daughter showed him she was engrossed with the tiny dishes, so he left her with his aunt and followed Amy into the house.

When he came down the attic steps with the buggy, he heard tinkling music coming from a bedroom and noticed Amy inside. “Can’t find the dolls?” he asked.

“They’re here, but I remembered the ballerina music box on the chest of drawers. Look at the cute little ballerina going round and round. Don’t you think Sarah would love this?”

Leaving the buggy in the hall, David entered the bedroom, coming to stand beside Amy. “She ought to like it,” he agreed.

He was close enough to breathe in her faint scent of flowers, one he was rapidly becoming addicted to. It was dangerous to start anything with a bed so close by, but he couldn’t resist. Taking her arm, he urged her into a turn. When she was facing him, he bent and kissed her, her lips warm and responsive under his.

As always, her taste, her softness against him sent him spinning, losing control. Because he couldn’t help it, he let the spin continue, holding her closer, savoring her nearness. He wanted more, but he grasped the frayed ends of his control, forcing himself to do no more than deepen the kiss.

Her lips parted to let him in, an invitation he welcomed, a prelude to consummation of a different kind.
Which they weren’t going to reach today, not now and not here.

Still, he couldn’t let her go. Never before had a kiss taken him so far so fast. He found her irresistible, and from the way she snuggled closer, he could tell she wanted him, too.

It would happen, he’d make it happen. He’d gone far beyond the notion that one session of sex with Amy would be enough, to wondering if he’d ever have enough.

Amy pulled back slightly. “We can’t,” she said, the huskiness in her voice betraying her need.

Slowly, reluctantly, he let her go.

D
avid had a place picked out to take Sarah every day the following week. Wednesday it was the local library, and it turned out to be a successful excursion because, as it turned out, Sarah loved to read. It bothered him that he’d paid so little attention to his daughter in past years that he didn’t even know what she liked to do.

Never again would he allow himself to become so involved in his work that family came second. What had it gained him? Betrayal by a man he’d trusted and the end of his marriage. He doubted if the marriage ever could have succeeded, given that he and Iris had so little in common—nothing really except Sarah. But he could have been more of a father.

Wednesday evening he and Sarah were sharing a pizza at home when Amy came to the door.

“No, thanks,” she said when he invited her to eat with them. “I stopped and had Chinese. I came over to bring you this from your great-aunt, Sarah. She thought you might like it.” Amy held out the ballerina music box.

So she’d remembered to ask Gert about it. He’d forgotten.

When Sarah didn’t reach to take the gift, Amy placed the music box on the table and wound it up. The tinkling tune reminded him of holding Amy in his arms at Gert’s.

Sarah stared, saying nothing as the tiny ballerina danced around and around. Suddenly she burst into tears and bolted from the kitchen.

David jumped to his feet, started after her, then hesitated. He had no notion what triggered her outburst—Amy might be better qualified to find out. In any case, tears undid him.

“Do you want me to go after her?” she asked.

He nodded.

He toyed with a slice of pizza, his appetite gone, while he waited. And waited. He was pacing around the kitchen when at last he heard water running and realized Amy must have persuaded Sarah to take her nightly bath. Finally Amy returned.

“How is she?” he asked.

“She’s taken the duck and the submarine she said you bought her yesterday into the tub with her. She told me she chose the submarine and you the duck because you thought every kid needed a yellow duck in the bathtub. I think she’ll be okay now.”

“What in hell upset her like that?”

“The ballerina. It’s my fault, I goofed. I didn’t think about her limp. Do you realize Sarah’s dream was to be a ballerina? She clung to it until the last doctor she was taken to said bluntly, in her hearing, that no surgery could correct the shorter leg.”

David’s chest constricted with the pain he felt for his daughter.

“I’m so sorry,” Amy told him. “I wouldn’t’ve hurt her for the world.”

“It’s not your fault. How could you know? I didn’t even know.”

“It’s true no one knew—Sarah said she’d never told anyone. Another thing came out. She hates what she calls her ‘ugly’ shoes, the orthopedic ones she has to wear to make up for the shorter leg. I took a look at the one with the lift and I think someone who works with such things could put something similar in a good pair of sandals or sneakers so she’d feel more like the other kids.”

“I wish she’d said something to me.”

“Sarah keeps a lot to herself. In a way, it’s just as well I goofed about the ballerina, because she let some of what’s bothering her come out. She may be more open from now on.”

“I’m going to find something unusual she can enjoy doing,” David said. “I’m not sure what, but I’ll find it.”

Amy smiled at him. “An excellent idea. It’ll build up her self-esteem.” She reached for the ballerina music box. “I’ll take this back to Gert.”

As she turned toward the door, David stopped her and gave her a heartfelt hug. “I take back all my
nasty cracks about shrinks,” he said as he let her go. “You’re really helping me with Sarah.”

“I’m very fond of her. She’s a resourceful and intelligent child who loves her father more than you may realize.”

David blinked against the sting of tears. He’d done little to deserve it, but Sarah loved him, anyway. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Sarah keeps asking when you can come with us again,” he said. “Gert says there’s a children’s museum in Carson City with hands-on stuff for kids. How about going there with us on Saturday?”

“I’d like to. See you then.”

David smiled as he closed the door behind her. He was as interested in having Amy along as Sarah was, and not just because she helped him understand his daughter better. Amy was good company. More than that. If he didn’t make love to her soon, he’d be a basket case.

The children’s museum turned out to be a good place for kids, as Gert had predicted, Amy thought as she, Sarah and David wandered from one exhibit to another. The kids could touch almost everything there, which made it much more interesting to them. Looking at her watch, Amy saw the Music for Children event was about to begin so she guided the other two toward the room where it was being held.

Unsure what to expect, Amy was pleased to find that after the demonstration, the kids were going to actually be able to hold and try to play small-size instruments. Sarah watched with some interest as the
man and woman running the event played notes on a clarinet, a flute, a trumpet, a xylophone, a guitar and, lastly, a violin.

David reached over Sarah’s head to touch Amy’s shoulder when the violinist began, pointing at his daughter, who stared raptly at the woman as she coaxed sweetness from the strings with her bow. When the time came for the kids to hold the small instruments, Amy was amazed at how correctly Sarah placed the violin under her chin and how carefully she drew the bow across the strings.

“Can I learn to play this?” she asked her father.

“If I can find someone to teach you, you can,” he said.

As it turned out, the woman running the event, Nell Archer, was beginning a Suzuki class in violin for children four to seven. “After that, they need a larger instrument than the miniature,” Nell said. “If any of the children in the class show definite musical talent and wish to go on, I can arrange for private lessons.”

David signed Sarah up for the class, which was beginning in Gardnerville, not too far from Tourmaline, in a week.

“That should allow you enough time to purchase or lease an instrument,” Nell said, and gave him the name of a music store in Reno that handled the small violins. “Be sure and let your child chose the instrument herself,” she added. “It’s important she establish a rapport with her instrument even before she learns to play it.”

“What’s
rapport
mean?” Sarah asked Nell, sur
prising both Amy and David because she didn’t usually speak to strangers.

Nell smiled. “
Rapport
means that you feel a certain violin call to you. Not out loud, of course, but here, in your heart.” She put her hand on her chest. “It means that violin wants to be yours and the two of you will become close friends.”

Wide-eyed, Sarah looked from Nell to her father.

“Ms. Archer is the expert when it comes to violins,” he told Sarah.

Amy smiled inwardly. A perfect answer. David probably thought rapport with an inanimate object was as unlikely as she did, but he hadn’t let his skepticism show. He might need to learn a few things yet, but he was a natural father.

After they left the museum, Sarah said, “Can we go find my violin right now, Daddy?”

David smiled and said, “As long as we’re this close to Reno, we might as well do it today.”

Sarah was beside herself with excitement on the drive there, but when they parked in the music store lot, she quieted down and, by the time they went inside, looked frightened. “What if none of the violins want to be my friend?” she asked in a small voice.

“One of them will. Just wait and see.” David sounded so positive that Sarah perked up a bit.

The salesman, an older man, led them to the children’s section of the store and patiently handed Sarah one violin after another, telling her to hold each under her chin to see how it fit. There were seven in all and Sarah had begun to look worried by the time he
handed her the sixth. As she fitted it under her chin her eyes widened.

“Daddy, I can feel it,” she cried. “This is my violin.”

Completely outfitted with not only the violin, but a bow, a case, resin and extra strings, Sarah insisted on carrying the cased instrument herself. After putting her and the case in the back cab, David whispered to Amy, “Do you suppose Nell isn’t a flake, after all?”

Amy shrugged. “Since I never played an instrument in my life, how do I know?”

“Me, neither, but I have to admit I feel close to my grandpa’s old Colt .45. Rapport, do you suppose?”

She poked him with her elbow. “What is it with men and guns?”

Instead of answering, he ran a finger along her spine, saying, “Then there’s you and me. Rapport like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I am not an inanimate object,” she told him.

He grinned at her. “I suspected as much.”

Since the lessons began on a Saturday, Amy came with Sarah and David for the first one, held at a grammar school in Gardnerville. Nell Archer greeted them pleasantly, but when the time came for the lessons to begin, she announced that having parents present distracted the children. All the adults were dismissed and the door shut behind them.

“I guess I’m just as glad,” one of the mothers said to Amy. “I’d be more nervous than Betty.”

“She’s your daughter?” Amy asked.

The woman nodded. “I’m Cary McBride. Betty’s the one with red hair and freckles. What’s your daughter’s name?”

Before Amy could explain, David spoke up. “She’s Sarah—brown hair and blue eyes.”

“Actually I think she and Betty are seated next to each other. Do you live in town?”

“Tourmaline,” David told her.

“Really? How wonderful. So do we. Could we exchange phone numbers? Maybe the girls can practice together sometimes. I used to play the violin myself and I know practice is sometimes a drag alone.”

“Sounds like a winner.” David took the pen and notepad Amy handed him from her purse, scribbling his number on a sheet and handing it to Cary before taking hers down.

Cary thanked him, then glanced at her watch. “Do you think I have enough time to grocery shop here before the class is over? I’m way behind with everything.”

“Go ahead,” Amy said. “If it takes longer than you think, we’ll tell Betty where you are and keep an eye on her while we all wait in the schoolyard.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Cary hurried off.

Amy’s first thought had been “harried mother,” but on second thought, there might be more going on than that. Cary had been visibly tense.

“Practice,” David said. “That means I have to listen to a beginning violinist—right?”

Amy nodded. “Maybe even two at a time.”

He winced.

They wandered out to the schoolyard and Amy sat
on a swing. David eased in back of her, said, “Hang on,” and began to push the swing.

As she gradually rose higher and higher, she called to him, “I have an old picture of my great-grandmother being pushed in a swing on a Broadway stage. I guess it was romantically risqué in those days.”

“If you were wearing a short, flared skirt, it might be the same today,” he called back.

“Dreamer.”

After a time he said, “Going to let the old cat die,” and sat on the swing next to her.

“I never heard that one,” Amy told him as the arcs of her swing grew less and less.

“Courtesy of my grandfather. He always said that when he stopped pushing the swing I was in.”

“In your cowboy era.”

“Right. Which reminds me—what did you want to be when you grew up?”

She struck a dramatic pose. “The world’s greatest actress, what else?”

“Then what?”

She sighed. “My father wanted me to be a lawyer, like he was. Like my brother was before he defected.”

“You’re not one, though.”

“I started out to be, but…” Her words trailed off. She wasn’t ready to tell him or anyone what had happened to her in college.

“So you defected like your brother. Is he the one with the horse ranch?”

She nodded. “Russ is doing what he always wanted to do.”

“Good for him.”

“We all should be working at what we want to do.”

“Are you?”

Amy nodded. “I realized I wanted to help people with their problems.” Which was part of the truth. When she’d dropped out of pre-law, she’d already decided drama wasn’t for her. She’d chosen a psych major mostly because she’d hoped learning more about the mind would help
her.
Wanting to help others came later.

Should she ask David if he was doing what he wanted to do? Better not, he’d gotten touchy about that kind of question from her. She’d lay off for a while.

“Ever come close to getting married?” he asked.

“Not really.” It wasn’t a lie. After all, Vince had certainly never considered marrying her even if she’d once believed differently. Marriage to him would have been more of a disaster than what had happened. “And I’m not sorry,” she added, a bit more emphatically than she meant to.

“You’ve met Iris,” David said.

He obviously intended to let the statement speak for itself.

“Yes.” She hadn’t liked the woman, but she wasn’t going to say anything negative about Sarah’s mother.

“Even if she hadn’t taken up with that bastard we couldn’t have made a go of it,” he said.

That had been clear to Amy from the moment she met the woman, but she kept her words neutral. “People often go into marriages with unrealistic expectations.”

“Yeah. I’m cured. Once bitten, twice shy.”

“Grandpa again?”

David nodded.

Though she wanted to point out what might apply to a marriage didn’t necessarily apply to his profession, she kept her mouth shut.

After a silence, she said, “I asked Gert about a place that you might take Sarah to see about shoes other than ‘ugly’ ones. She called an orthopedist she knew and he gave her the name of a guy in Carson City who does that sort of thing. I’ll give you the phone number and address when we get back.”

“Thanks, I’ll get on it next week.”

“Which reminds me. My brother invited me to bring you and Sarah out to his ranch next Saturday. I told him that was the powwow date so he upped it to the following Saturday. Sarah will get to ride a pony.”