Web of Smoke (20 page)

“Maybe.”

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat and then swing by and pick up your copy of the will. Feel like Mexican?”

“How can you be hungry? My stomach’s in knots after that. I hate to lie.”

“You weren’t doing any of the lying. I was. Besides, who’s it going to hurt? She didn’t suspect and it’s not like we’ll be running into her again.”

“But what if she looks up my mother and finds out she’s dead? Or goes to the house and I answer the door? I just hate to lie, Sam.”

“Okay, okay. But at least we know how your mom got the house. Aren’t you glad about that?”

“Yes, but it seems that every new thing I’m learning is just showing me how little I knew about my mother.”

“So? Christie, I couldn’t fill an index card with what I know about my mom.” He made a couple of turns and pulled into the parking lot of a taco stand shaped like a giant sombrero. Dropped in a desert blindfolded, Sam could find Mexican food.

In front of the hat’s brim, three stone tables dotted the patio area. Christie sat down at one of them.

“What do you want?” Sam asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. Sam went to the window and ordered, pacing as he waited for his food to appear. She caught herself watching him, her gaze taking in his broad shoulders and slim hips. The way his hair fell over his forehead, ruffled by the hot breeze. He saw her watching and winked with a sexy smile.

Returning to the table with two sodas and three white bags packed full of food, he began spreading paper-wrapped items on the table.

“I got you a carne asada burrito, just in case you change your mind.”

Her favorite and it smelled wonderful. Maybe she was just a little hungry, after all. She reached for it and her stomach gurgled thankfully. Sam wolfed a taco, washing it down with a Diet Pepsi.

“Can I say something?” he asked, reaching for a burrito.

“Why start asking now?”

“Because I know that however I word this it’s probably going to come out wrong and I don’t want to piss you off.”

She chewed, thinking about this for a moment. A part of her wanted to refuse, because obviously she wouldn’t like what he had to say.  Frowning, she nodded. “Okay, what is it?”

Sam gave her a cautious look and said, “I think you’ve got a big hang-up about your mom. It’s like you’re always making excuses for her faults.”

“What faults? I don’t—”

“She wasn’t there when you felt she should have been. I saw your face when Beth was talking about her, Chris. I know what you were thinking.”

She scowled at him. “What makes you think you know so much?”

“I listen. It’s like somewhere along the line, you and your mother did a little role reversal. She quit taking care of you so you started playing mom.”

“That’s a pretty big leap you’re making.”

“No, it’s not. Ever since we met you’ve been worrying about your mother. Even before DC. Even back when we were dating. Hell, you’re still doing it. Sometimes I don’t think you’re even aware of it.”

“I cared about her. That didn’t stop just because she died.”

He unwrapped a tostada and smothered it in hot sauce. “I think you confuse worrying and caring.”

“Do tell, Dr. Sam, what is that supposed to mean?”

“Okay, let me ask you a question. If she’d been against you and me getting married—if for some insane reason, your mother hadn’t liked me—would you have quit seeing me?”

“No.”

“Even knowing how things would turn out with us?”

She lowered her face so he couldn’t look in her eyes. “I certainly wouldn’t have trusted my mother’s judgment about a man.”

“My point exactly. But you always expected her to take your advice on what men she saw—”

“That’s different, Sam. You heard what Beth said, my mom had no sense—”

“It doesn’t matter, Christie! It was her life. It wasn’t even any of your business.
What’s right for you wasn’t necessarily right for her.”

Christie could feel her entire body go rigid with hurt and anger. “What are you saying? That I tried to change her?”

“I knew you were going to get mad.”

She forced her shoulders down and tried to be less defensive, but it was hard to talk about her mom this way.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Chris. I just want you to let go of the past and move on. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you don’t. Right or wrong, your mother made her own choices. You can’t change that now any more than you could when she was alive. So give yourself a break.”

Christie stared at him, captivated by his husky voice and dark eyes. His words touched off a thawing warmth from within that made her skin feel inexplicably cold. When had he become so understanding, so in tune with her feelings?

He reached across the table and trapped her nervous hands under his. “Nobody’s perfect, Christie,” he said softly.

Of course no one was perfect. She’d never expected anyone to be. Then why did she feel a sense of relief at his words? Had she always expected her mother to be perfect? Or Sam? Or herself, for that matter?

She looked up, unseeing, as she stood on the border of unexplored feelings. Just ahead she sensed a crossing, shimmering under a mist of uncertainty. Could she give up her old way of thinking and move forward on just the hope that the ground beneath her would be solid?

Quietly, Sam returned the untouched order of rolled tacos and an enchilada to the bag, watching her with questioning intensity as he did.

She knew he waited for her to say something, but she needed to think before she could even begin to put her feelings into words. They returned to the Jeep and drove to the house in La Jolla. On the way, Christie grew more reflective and Sam silent. After he parked in the driveway, Christie got out and went inside. Sam followed.

She picked up their conversation when the door closed behind him. “I loved my mother, Sam.”

“I know, honey,” he said, staring at her from across the foyer. “Nothing should ever be able to change that.”

“You think I expect everyone I love to be perfect, don’t you?”

“No, Christie. All I’m trying to say is that whatever we find out about your mother doesn’t have to have anything to do with you. It doesn’t have to change the way you felt about her. We’re going to be turning over a lot of stones, and there might be a few bugs under them. That doesn’t mean your mom was a bad person or that you failed her or anything. Okay?”

She felt herself go very still as the full impact of his words hit her. “You think my mother was involved in something illegal, don’t you, Sam?”

He took his time answering. Waiting, the knots in her stomach pulled tighter.

“Yeah, I think so. But I don’t think she planned it that way.”

“Meaning what?”

“I think she got trapped. Conned. I can’t fill in the details because I don’t know them. But it’s my guess that DC got her in over her head and Beth found out.”

“Beth?”

“Yeah. Something about Beth’s story didn’t sit right with me.”

Christie exhaled loudly. “You sure took your sweet time about saying something. What’s wrong with Beth’s story?”

“I can’t even put my finger on it. But I don’t think she busted DC smoking in the john,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s too smart for that. I think she caught him at something all right, but it was a hell of a lot more serious than smoking some weed.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know... tampering with records? And this house-trade story we just heard. I don’t buy it.”

“Come on, Sam. You’re not buying anyone’s story. So far, you think Pfeiffer’s a gangster, Beth’s a liar, and Mrs. McClowsky’s what…a real estate tycoon? You’re being just a bit suspicious, don’t you think?”

He raised his brows. “So you believe that DC was your mother’s assistant?” he demanded.

“No, but there’s probably a reasonable explanation for Mrs. McClowsky to think he was. Maybe my mom didn’t want to introduce him as the janitor—”

“Why would she introduce him at all? Think about it, Christie. You don’t introduce your janitor to your clients—”

“He wasn’t just the janitor to my mom—”

“So? He still had no place working with adoptive parents. Besides, didn’t Mrs. McClowsky say that DC approached them about the second adoption?”

“Yes, but maybe my mom told DC about them and…and….”

“And what? He felt charitable and decided to help? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe he wanted to get back at Beth for something.”

Sam paused, thinking about that. “Okay, keep going.”

“Maybe he and Beth had already had a confrontation over his involvement with my mother, or his work ethic—I don’t know. With DC anything’s possible. Maybe he saw helping my mom open her own clinic as a way to stick it to Beth and ensure that he’d have a job with my mom.”

“That’s pretty good. But this house scam. That’s a pretty expensive house, Christie. I’m still having trouble swallowing the fact that they just gave
it to her. I mean, obviously a baby’s worth more than money, but how much can the adoption have cost?”

“I wondered that myself.”

“Unless it was illegal.”

“What?”

“Black market, Chris. I think DC sold that baby to the McClowskys.”

“Wait just a minute, Sam. You had me for a while there, but I absolutely will not believe that my mother would be involved with black market babies.”

“I wonder how we could find out where the McClowsky baby came from?” he said after a pause.

“You mean her real mother? Those kinds of records are sealed. Why? You weren’t thinking of dragging her
into this were you?”

“I guess not. If what I’m thinking is true, that wouldn’t do us any good anyway. If the mother sold her baby, she wouldn’t talk to us about it.”

“Mrs. McClowsky didn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d buy a baby, Sam. She seemed too open and friendly.”

“She said herself that her husband and DC handled all the details. Maybe she doesn’t know.”

“Back to maybe again. Maybe we’re crazy.”

“You heard how hard she’d tried to get a baby through legal channels, Chris. She sounded as if she’d been desperate.”

“Desperate is one thing. What you’re talking about is criminal.”

“Maybe she doesn’t see it that way. If the real mother was willing to sell, McClowsky did the baby a favor by buying. You know that child’s got a better life with them than she’d have had with a mother who would sell her.”

“But, Sam….”

“I know it’s hard for you to understand wanting a baby that badly, Chris, but the McClowskys aren’t the first or the last to pay big bucks for a kid.”

“Why do you think it’s hard for me to understand that?”

“You never wanted kids yourself—”

“Who told you that?”

“You did.”

“I never said that,” she protested.

“Yes, you did.”

“I never said I didn’t want children, Sam. I’ll listen to your theories about my mother, myself, my psychosis, but don’t put words in my mouth.”

“We did talk about it. But I guess it doesn’t make much difference now, does it?”

“We talked about it once, Sam McCoy. And as I recall it, we weren’t talking. We were fighting—as usual.”

“We were fighting about whether or not to have kids.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?”

“You’re the one getting worked up about it.”

“I just didn’t want my child to be raised without a father, like I was.”

“What are you saying? Did you think I’d get you pregnant and skip town?”

“I wanted to be sure we were going to last before we brought children into it.”

“No, Chris. You were already convinced we weren’t going to make it. Right from the start.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?” She shook her head, brushing her hair from her eyes. “Nothing’s changed between us, Sam. Look at us! Just when I think things could be different, we start fighting again. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m fighting about. You keep telling me to put the past behind me, and then you bring it up.”

She turned away, rubbing her arms with her hands. Sighing, Sam stared at her back in confused silence.

After a long moment, Sam said, “You’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just been bothering me, all this time. And then thinking about the McClowskys and everything they did to get their baby…whatever it is that they did…. It just got me going.”

Christie sat on the bottom step of the staircase and stared up at Sam. “I would have wanted them,” she said softly. “If things had worked out for us, I would have.”

He joined her on the step, taking her cool hand in his.

“Are you going to give us another try, Christie?”

She looked up, into eyes as dark as night. Eyes that waited for her to say more. Slowly, she shook her head, her gaze still locked to his.

“I don’t know, Sam. You hurt me. I’m afraid to give you the chance to do it again.”

“That’s not the chance I want,” he said softly. Watching the golds and greens of her eyes mingle and change as she stared back, he shifted his weight until he was kneeling between her knees, his lips level with hers. The sound of their breathing seemed to echo in the empty house. He kept her gaze captured.

The heat of her body burned through the thin material of her shirt. He nuzzled her ear, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume and the memories it recalled.

He pulled back and tried to reclaim her gaze, but she looked down at his shirt. Gently, he tilted her face back up to his so she could see the fierce light that he knew burned in his eyes. “Why are you confused, Christie? Because you still love me?”

She shook her head but the answer in her eyes told him more than any words. He caught his breath and leaned closer.

“Maybe,” she whispered.

Her soft voice broke the invisible chain that held him back. Frustration, confusion, and fear had accented their every move from the start. Still those emotions weren’t strong enough to dominate this one driving need for each other. He kissed her.

She tasted sweet and salty, her lips the softest things he’d ever touched. Her hands moved, whispering against his chest before coiling around his neck. She pulled herself tight against him and he tucked her close. Her breasts felt soft and heavy, flattened against the muscles of his chest, muffling both of their heartbeats. She squeezed his sides with her thighs, moving in a reflexive and rhythmic motion, heat radiating from her.