Unfinished Business (7 page)

No. But— “No offense, but I’m used to not
having family around. I’ve been living in Nashville for almost
seven years. I got through divorcing Bradley on my own.”

“You haven’t dealt with this situation
before,” Mother said.

Well, no.

Then again, I sort of had. Or something
similar. “I spent most of October and November not knowing whether
Rafe was alive or dead, and whether he’d come back or stay gone
forever. I was pregnant then, too. It’s been a while since I had to
deal with it, but I’m sure it’ll come back to me.”

“Don’t be facetious, darling,” Mother
said.

“I’m not. I’ll be fine. I don’t need you to
stay.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Mother said, sounding
very sure I did, “but my mind is made up.”

“You didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“Nor did Dixon,” Mother said. “I’m sure I
can find something of yours to wear.”

Maybe, although she’s a few inches shorter
and a bit skinnier than I am. Especially right now.

And I guess Dix would have to raid Rafe’s
closet. He was at least three inches shorter than Rafe, and rather
less muscular—being a lawyer instead of an undercover TBI agent—but
I was sure I could dig up something he could wear. Worst case
scenario, we’d stop by the nearest Target or Walmart and buy him a
pair of jeans that fit, some underwear, and a pair of cheap
loafers. It wouldn’t hurt him—wouldn’t hurt either of them—to rough
it for a couple of days.

But while I didn’t mind Dix sticking
around—my brother and I have always gotten along well, being close
in age—there was no part of me that wanted to put up with Mother.
The situation I was in was already difficult enough. And she hated
Rafe. The last thing I needed was someone breathing down my neck,
telling me every hour that he’d run away rather than marry me. It
was hard enough to convince myself that he hadn’t without her
help.

“You’d really be more comfortable at home,”
I said. “And don’t you and Bob have plans tonight?”

They usually did. Dinner at the Wayside Inn,
the nicest restaurant in Sweetwater. Followed by, I’m sure,
something I didn’t want to think too closely about.

“Bob will understand,” Mother said
firmly.

“You’d have to stay here. In this house.
With just me and Dix for protection.”

And how would Dix feel about this? He might
be planning to spend the night with Grimaldi. But with Mother
bunking across the hall, he wouldn’t be able to leave. And no way
was he going to explain to her that he’d figured on spending the
night with a woman. Mother would have a fit.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”
I added, a touch desperate. “The neighborhood isn’t what you’re
used to.”

“If Dixon is here,” Mother said, “I’m sure
I’ll be fine.”

If Dixon was here.
Right
.

Outside, Jonathan leaned on the car horn.
Catherine made a face. “I have to go.”

“Go,” Mother said. “I’ll be fine here. I’ll
drive down with your brother tomorrow. Or the next day. Whenever
it’s time for him to go back.”

“Are you sure?” Catherine moved a few steps
closer to the door.

“Positive,” Mother said, waving her off.
“Go, before your husband leaves without you.”

“He won’t leave without me,” Catherine said.
“Not after driving all the way here.” But she went anyway,
practically running down the hallway.

Mother and I looked at one another.

“After you,” she said.

“I think you’re going to regret this,” I
told her, and went. Behind me, I heard the clicking of her
heels.

Outside, Catherine was already in the
minivan when I got there. I sidled up to Dix and spoke softly.
“Mother decided to stay.”

He nodded without looking at me. “Catherine
told me.”

“Sorry if that upsets your plans for the
evening.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t going
anywhere.”

“Good. Because I’m not dealing with her on
my own.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Dix said. “Maybe
we can play charades.”

Mother reached the porch and I told him, “We
usually just sit and count the gunshots. And do shots of
Tequila”

Nobody said anything.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”
Catherine asked Mother. “It isn’t too late.”

Mother shook her head. “My daughter needs
me.”

“Like a rash,” Dix muttered.

Indeed.

“Last chance,” I said, as Jonathan put the
minivan in gear.

“Goodness, darling,” Mother told me. “The
way you’re talking, one might almost think you don’t want me to
stay.”

And one would assume correctly. But since I
wasn’t quite at the point where I was willing to say that, out
loud, to my mother, I just forced a smile. “Drive safely.”

Jonathan nodded. “Call me,” Catherine said.
“Let me know what happens.” Her voice got progressively louder as
the car rolled away from the steps. “Don’t forget!”

I lifted a hand. We stood there and waited
until the minivan had taken a right on Potsdam and disappeared down
the street, and then I turned and headed back inside the house.
“I’m going to change.”

“Of course, darling,” Mother said
sympathetically.

“It’s a long drive to Peaceful Pines. I
might as well be comfortable.” I headed up the stairs.

“What’s Peaceful Pines?” Dix called after
me.

I stopped halfway up to look back at him.
“Church camp. Somewhere on the Cumberland Plateau. Ginny said it
was at least an hour from here. Rafe’s son David is there. I want
to talk to him. See if Rafe has been in touch. See whether he has
mentioned anything about... anything.”

There was a moment’s pause. I waited to see
if anyone had anything to say. When they didn’t, I added, “I’ll be
back downstairs in a couple of minutes. If you want to change out
of what you’re wearing, now’s the time.”

And then I continued up the stairs to do my
own changing. I’d been wearing this wedding dress for long enough.
It was time to get down to business.

Twenty minutes later we were on our way out of Nashville, toward
the Cumberland Plateau. Dix had keyed the coordinates for the camp
into his GPS, and we were making good time. It was a Saturday,
traffic was light, and Dix’s SUV was purring along. Dix was
driving, and Mother sat in the front seat, which left me to lounge
in the back. Abigail and Hannah were both still in booster seats,
and my derriere is too big to fit in one of those, so I’d had to
unhook one and shove it down on the floor, between the back of
Dix’s seat and the backseat, to have room.

In six months or so, I’d be driving around
with a baby seat in the back of my own car. With a baby in it.

Would that baby have a father? One who was
part of its life? Or would its only knowledge of its father be in
the stories I told and the few—very few—pictures I had?

I took the thought out and looked at it.
Sideways at first, and then straight on.

Rafe was gone. Whether willingly or
unwillingly I had no idea yet. If he’d developed cold feet, he’d
shown no sign of it to me, but then he’d undoubtedly make sure he
didn’t. Wouldn’t want me to know he’d changed his mind. That he
couldn’t be who I wanted him to be. A good husband and father.

If that’s what had happened, I could even
understand it, to a degree. He’d grown up fatherless, with a
grandfather who’d liked nothing better than to knock him—and his
mother—around. He had no frame of reference for what a good father
should look like, and although I believed, with everything I had,
that he would fall in love with our baby and become a great father,
he might not believe it. He might worry about his abilities in that
regard. That might be why he’d never even considered asking for
custody—even joint custody—of David. Until last year, he hadn’t
known about David’s existence. Hadn’t known he had a son. He had
every right, legally and morally, to insist on a chance to be that
son’s father.

But he hadn’t. And I’d never asked why. I
had assumed I knew. David was happy and healthy and well-loved. He
had parents who adored him, who would be devastated to lose him.
They were the only parents he’d ever known. He’d enjoyed getting to
know Rafe, but Sam was still his dad, and Ginny was his mom. He’d
be devastated to lose them, too.

I had assumed that was why Rafe hadn’t made
anything of it. Because of what was best for David. But maybe he’d
been worried about his own abilities to be a father, as well? It’s
one thing to make friends with his kid while someone else has all
the difficult responsibilities of parenting, but something else
entirely to be a full-time father.

With our baby, he couldn’t leave the
parenting to someone else. Not unless he left.

My stomach roiled unpleasantly, and I put a
hand to it. Dix glanced at me in the rearview mirror, as if he
could sense what was going on. “Are you feeling all right,
Savannah?”

“A little nauseous,” I admitted.

“D’you need me to pull over? Get you a
ginger ale, or something? There’s an exit coming up, with a couple
of gas stations.”

“I think I’m OK.” It wasn’t morning
sickness. Or afternoon sickness. Just a result of what I was
thinking. Ginger ale wasn’t going to help that. “I’ll let you
know.”

Dix nodded.

“Would you like to sit up front?” Mother
asked, martyr-like. “I can sit in the back.”

Oh, sure
. Just my mother, her
Manolos, and the booster seats. I’d never hear the end of that.

“I’m all right,” I said. “I’ll let you
know.”

She nodded and faced front. No doubt praying
that I wouldn’t.

The car kept going.

“I’m going to take a nap,” I said, and
closed my eyes.

“I’ll wake you when we get there,” Dix
answered, sounding relieved.

“Probably do her good,” Mother murmured. I
slitted my eyes open and saw that Dix nodded. And then I closed
them again.

I don’t think I actually slept much, but I went into a sort of
half-awake state where my thoughts weren’t so loud and turned into
freaky half-asleep daydreams mixed with memories instead. Rafe was
facing off against Hector Gonzales, who had a knife and wasn’t
afraid to use it, while I was tied to a chair unable to do anything
to help. Rafe was slumped on his bedroll in the trailer in the Bog,
with Elspeth’s dead body sprawled on the floor, and blood
everywhere. Rafe was driving away, the taillight of his
Harley-Davidson fading into the distance and then turning the
corner at Fifth and Main, where I used to live.

Rafe was back, sitting on the edge of the
bed in Mrs. Jenkins’s house at Potsdam Street, his hand warm and
rough as he stroked my shoulder and arm.

“Rise and shine, Goldilocks.”

I jerked awake and looked around. His voice
had been so real that for a second, it was like he should be there.
But I was still in the car, and there was no Rafe. Just Mother and
Dix.

“We’re here,” my brother added.

I sat up and looked out the window. Yes, we
were. The car was parked in a clearing surrounded by tall pine
trees. In the distance, between the trunks of the trees, I could
see blinking water where the sun struck it. A dozen small log
cabins were spaced out on the hillside down toward the water. A
sign above the door of the nearest cabin said ‘office.’

“We’re here,” I said.

Dix nodded. “That’s what I said.”

“Sorry.” I rubbed my eyes. Carefully, so I
wouldn’t smudge the makeup any worse than I figured it already was.
“I guess I fell asleep.”

“Guess so.” Dix opened his door. “Stay
there. I’ll come around and haul you out.”

I nodded.

But of course he stopped and helped Mother
first, as a dutiful son should. By the time he got to me, I’d
already opened my own door and swung my legs out.

“Watch your head,” Dix said, and took my
hand. “Come on.” He pulled me out of the car and supported me for a
second. “OK?”

I nodded. “Bad dreams.”

“Sorry.” He gave my arm a squeeze. “We’ll
figure it out.”

I nodded. Yes, we would. One way or another.
But that didn’t mean my life would ever be the same again.

I had changed into a comfortable cotton
sundress and a pair of sandals before we left Mrs. Jenkins’s house.
Dix had had the good sense to leave his suit jacket behind, and to
remove his tie and roll his sleeves up to the elbows. Mother,
meanwhile, was still dressed in her three inch heels, her pencil
skirt, and her silk blouse. She looked ridiculous balancing on the
rough grass, surrounded by the pine trees and silence.

“Why don’t you stay in the car?” I
suggested. “Dix can leave the air conditioning running. It’s hot
out here.”

Mother shook her head. “I’ll be fine once we
get inside.”

I doubted it—from what I could tell, there
was no A/C in the cabins, not even the office one—but she was a
grownup, after all. She could make up her own mind.

“Then let’s go see whether David’s back from
his hike and whether we can convince someone to let us talk to him
for a minute.”

I headed for the open door to the cabin
without waiting for an answer. Dix offered Mother his arm, and they
followed.

It was just as hot inside the office as I
had anticipated. The front door stood open, and so did a back
window. An oscillating fan moved the air around. But all that did,
was create a breeze. The breeze was still above ninety degrees. The
college-age girl who was sitting behind the desk tapping on a
computer keyboard had perspiration beading at her temples and at
the hollow of her throat. Any makeup she had started the day
with—if any—had evaporated in the heat and humidity.

When we walked in, she looked up. “Can I
help you?”

Blue eyes moved from me to Dix to
Mother.

“I’m Savannah Martin,” I said. “I was hoping
for a chance to talk to David Flannery.”

Those blue eyes shuttered. “I’m afraid
there’s nobody here by that name.”