Читать книгу Sugar Baby - Karen Young - Страница 10

THE CONTINUING DRONE of a small plane pulled Claire out of a deep sleep. Her subconscious had been aware of the sound for some time, long enough to pierce her defenses and trigger a dream. She was in a small plane with Carter at the controls. He was talking to her, smiling, gesturing with eager, almost manic, enthusiasm. He didn’t seem worried that he was flying the plane recklessly, zipping up and down, buzzing landmarks, going into a tailspin that brought her heart into her mouth. The controls on the instrument panel were going haywire. Trapped and terrified, Claire cried out at him to be careful, but he laughed at her. When she couldn’t reason with him, she opened the door to get out of the plane. She looked down in panic on an ocean of green sugarcane undulating in a summer breeze as the plane spiraled to the ground.

She awoke with a start.

To escape the nightmare, she wanted to spring out of bed, but her body felt heavy, weighted down by fear coursing through paralyzed limbs. Even her mind functioned sluggishly. She studied her surroundings in growing confusion. Where was she? The bedroom in her Houston condo had no floral wallpaper, no slowly revolving ceiling fan. Her bed had no tall cherry-wood foot posts.

And then she remembered. She was at Sugarland. Of course. With the McMolleres.

She rose on one elbow and rubbed a hand over her face. It had been such a long night. For hours her mind had been in turmoil. No relaxation techniques had worked. The last time she’d looked at the clock, it had been after four. It was now only a few minutes before six.

Slipping out of bed, she pulled on a robe and headed for the bathroom, which lay between the large guest suite Wyona had placed her in and a smaller bedroom the right size for a child. Unsurprisingly, considering the bizarre day he’d had, Danny had not been eager to stay in his room alone. It had been Michelle who’d persuaded him. Angry, hurting, rebellious Michelle. Claire wasn’t sure what the girl had promised him, but whatever it was, Danny had finally settled down. Claire had been grateful. Once again, she’d found herself wondering what was wrong between Michelle and Mack. Almost instinctively she wanted to reach out to the teenager, but she reminded herself that Michelle’s problems weren’t her concern. She couldn’t afford to get embroiled in this family’s affairs. Claire was here only because of the threat to Danny. Her son—not Mack’s troubled daughter—was the one who mattered right now.

In the bathroom, she realized that the sound of the small plane had not let up. Through the window, she watched the craft swoop low, spewing out a cloud of pesticide, the fuselage almost brushing the tops of the waving sugarcane. Barely dawn and a pilot was already crop-dusting. She rubbed her forehead, groaning at the early hours that farmers kept. Still, Danny would be interested, she thought, making a mental note to ask Mack to tell him about growing and processing sugar before it appeared on the table in tiny white granules to sweeten his cereal.

She went to check on him and found his bed empty. For a second, she stared around blankly. His pajamas were discarded beside a chair and his sneakers were gone. How could he have left without her hearing a sound? Her heart stumbled, but she told herself not to panic. Drawing the belt tight on her robe, she hurried into the hall. The house was eerily silent in the way houses are before their occupants rise. There was no sign of Danny or anybody else.

Fighting panic, she went to the banister of the winding staircase and leaned over it. “Danny,” she called, trying to keep her voice under control. “Danny, where are you?”

No answer. She whirled, about to go back to her room and get dressed. She could hardly search the place in her nightgown and robe. Behind her a door opened.

“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Wyona McMollere came out of a bedroom, her fair hair frizzed around her head and her eyeglasses cocked as though she’d donned them in a hurry.

“I’m looking for my son, Mrs. McMollere,” Claire said. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“At this hour?” the woman asked, glancing around as though expecting Danny to materialize out of nowhere. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” In a nervous gesture, Claire caught up her long hair as she tried to think. “He’s not in his room and his sneakers are gone.”

Angus McMollere shuffled up behind Wyona, leaning on his cane. “What’s all the ruckus?” he demanded, his scowl directed at Claire.

“My son isn’t in his room,” Claire said. “I need to find him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Wyona said.

“Of course, he’s fine,” Angus snapped. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Then where is he?” Claire cried, her heart starting to pound in panic. “It’s not even six o’clock in the morning!”

“Hear now, girl,” Angus said, shuffling toward her with his cane. “Just hold on. He’s around somewhere. Let’s see what Mack thinks.”

“Danny knows not to go anywhere with strangers,” Claire said.

“What strangers would you be referring to?” Angus demanded, his frown fierce. “There’re no strangers in this house, at least none who’d lure off a five-year-old.”

“Everyone here is a stranger to Danny,” she said tightly, anxiety making her blunt.

“And who’s fault is that!” Angus retorted with a thump of his cane.

“Maybe he’s just exploring the house,” Wyona offered helpfully. “Little boys are like that.”

“Danny wouldn’t explore anything without asking me first.”

“He’s a McMollere,” Angus argued. “They don’t always do what their mamas say.”

Disobedience was hardly something to be proud of, Claire thought with disgust. Before she said something she would regret, she turned to go, then halted at the sound of someone entering the front door downstairs. Wyona released a small relieved sigh. “Oh, oh, thank goodness, Mack’s here.”

Mack? He wasn’t in his bedroom sleeping?

All eyes were on him as he came up the curved staircase. His gaze went first to Claire. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you seen Danny?”

“Danny?” His blank look said everything.

“He’s gone!”

Wyona touched Angus’s arm. “Maybe Michelle—”

Mack walked over to them, frowning. “Gone where? What’s going on here?”

“He’s not in his bed,” Claire said. “I checked on him a few minutes ago. He’s not in the house. I should have let him sleep with me. He wanted to, but I thought—”

“Hey, take it easy.” Mack caught her hand and stopped her, gave it a little squeeze. “Wherever he is, he’s fine. He’s around somewhere. This is a big house.”

She pulled her hand away. “He’s not in the house. He would have heard me calling and said something.”

“Maybe the crop duster woke him up,” Mack suggested. “He probably snuck out to investigate.”

“Not without asking me,” she repeated stubbornly.

“Well, he sure can’t have been kidnapped right under our noses, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Mack observed.

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Claire said curtly, wrapping her arms around her waist. “With everything that happened yesterday, I should have kept him in the room with me. Until we know why that man was killed, Danny shouldn’t be out of my sight.”

“We don’t know yet that a man was killed,” Mack reminded her.

“You may not know it, but I do!”

“Okay, have it your way,” Mack said, more to calm her, she guessed, than because he actually agreed with her. “But let’s see if anybody outside the house has seen him before we panic, okay?”

“I was just about to do that,” Claire said. She was trembling, an inch away from falling apart and more relieved to see Mack than she cared to admit.

“I’ll get Cleo to make a thorough search downstairs. She might have seen something.”

“Cleo?”

“The housekeeper,” he said. “You met her last night.”

“Oh. Oh, yes.” Distracted, she pushed her hands through her hair, only then recalling that it was loose and uncombed and that she must look like something the cat dragged in.

“You might want to change into something else.”

Something in his tone intensified her embarrassment. She didn’t reply, but turned and hurried down the hall to do just that.

FOR A BEAT OR TWO, Mack stood watching her go. Fresh out of bed in a panic, she’d not taken time to pull her hair back. It was as he’d remembered—a rich auburn with fiery streaks. He was torn between feeling sympathy for her as a scared mother whose kid was probably off exploring interesting new territory, and losing himself in a sexual fantasy over the look of her, all dewyeyed and sleep-soft. It was no wonder she wore that tight bun and those longish dresses that didn’t touch her anywhere except her shoulders. To leave them off was to allow people to see her as she really was: her breasts rounded and lush, her waist small enough to span with his hands, a soft shape he itched to hold.

Was she simply putting on an act for her visit to Danny’s relatives? Possibly she thought that if she looked prim and proper enough, she would fool them all into thinking she was prim and proper. Not likely, since Miriam Pagett had been taken in, too, according to Wayne. And that was well over two years ago when Claire couldn’t have known she would be compelled to visit Carter’s folks.

Whatever the answer was, he didn’t have time to figure it out now. Claire’s concern for Danny was genuine. And he hadn’t just been blowing smoke when he’d told her the boy was safe so long as he was on Sugarland grounds. So where was he? In the car yesterday, everything Danny saw had fascinated him. Like any child might, he’d probably popped out of bed at the crack of dawn and decided to do a little sight-seeing on his own.

Not that Claire was in any frame of mind to accept that, Mack thought, bumping his Stetson against his thigh as he turned to go back downstairs. The problem with these city folks was that they overreacted to everything. It came from being penned up in climatecontrolled condos, or barricaded behind the locked gates of some planned community where they didn’t know anybody but the manager. They forgot what it was like to live a regular life. Not that things were all that regular around here since yesterday. In all fairness, he had to admit that.

Claire was scared to death. He was surprised to find that he didn’t like the idea of her worrying unnecessarily. She’d already gotten more than she’d bargained for in her visit to Sugarland. Quickly putting on his hat, he headed for the front door.

Claire was right behind him. “Michelle’s not in her room,” she said, tucking in the tails of a plain white shirt. Her hair, he noted, was again slicked back and anchored at her nape with an elastic ring.

“Well, they’re together, you can count on it.”

“How can you know that!” she cried. “I’ve been here less than a day, but it’s long enough to show me that Michelle isn’t a typical teenager. She could be anywhere and you wouldn’t know it, what with the relationship you two share. She could be at her friend’s house where we picked her up yesterday. She sure wouldn’t take Danny with her if I’m right.”

“You’re wrong.”

“About your relationship or the other?”

“The other,” he said, his reply clipped. He didn’t intend to discuss Michelle with her. “Michelle might well sashay off to her friend’s house without asking, but not at this hour. She’s at the barn.”

“The barn?”

“With the horses. It’s the only thing she likes about Sugarland.”

“You have horses?”

“Yeah, we have horses. We’ve got a lot of land, you might have noticed that,” he reminded her dryly. “Horses get around in a cane field much better than Jeeps.”

“Yes, but…” They were outdoors now and she could see beyond the immediate grounds—which were landscaped and meticulously maintained—to the acres and acres of sugarcane. “I just didn’t think.”

He headed for his Jeep, and she followed, huffing a little in an effort to keep up with him. He slowed down. He wasn’t used to a woman tagging along, but from the little he knew about Claire Woodson, he suspected wild horses couldn’t keep her from accompanying him on his search for her little boy.

“The barn’s over there.” He pointed east.

She looked, and sure enough, over the waving sugarcane she saw a barn compound. “Don’t you ever get tired of nothing but sugarcane?” she grumbled when she’d climbed into the Jeep.

“It’s cut by the end of the year and then there’s open space as far as the eye can see.”

“Oh.”

“Until the cane is up again.”

She buckled up like a diligent schoolmarm and, hiding a smile, he backed out of the driveway and started to drive the Jeep in the direction of the barn. Catching sight of her worried expression, he said, “Don’t worry, they’ll be there.”

They were. As soon as they reached the compound, they spotted Michelle astride her favorite mare in the corral behind the barn and Danny perched on the fence watching every move she made. The child turned at the sound of the Jeep and began to scramble down to run and meet them.

“Mommy, Mommy, they’ve got horses! Real horses. Michelle says I can learn to ride. I already touched Cherry. That’s her name. She’s a mare. That’s what you call a lady horse. Mommy, this is a neat place. I’m having fun!”

Mack felt a pang in his middle as he watched Claire sweep up the little boy and helplessly bury her face in his neck. She didn’t say anything.

Danny tolerated the emotional display briefly and then squirmed to get down. “Mommy, did you hear me?” he insisted, dragging her by the hand toward the fence. “Michelle is gonna teach me to ride. They have a pony just for me! His name’s Bucko. I bet I can do it, too.”

“Hi!” Michelle called, flashing a smile incredibly like her father’s. With an expert hand, she guided the prancing mare up to the fence. “Danny and I’ve been out forever. Is it time for breakfast? We’re both starved.”

“You may not get any breakfast,” Mack told her sternly. “Or lunch or dinner.”

She rolled her eyes. “What now, for Pete’s sake! I haven’t done anything to get in trouble for yet. It’s too early in the morning.”

Claire caught Mack’s eye. Now that her fear for Danny’s safety was passing, fury was overtaking it. “I’ll handle this,” she told him.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Danny asked, squinting up at her.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Michelle looked curiously from one to the other.

“You took my son out of the house without asking my permission, Michelle,” Claire said, her voice shaking. “Can you imagine how I felt when I woke up and he was gone? I was scared to death.”

“Geez, I’m sorry.” Michelle dismounted with easy grace. Keeping the reins in her hand, she bent down to get through the rails. “I guess I didn’t think. I go riding every morning, anybody around here’ll tell you that. Today was no different, except—”

“You didn’t think?”

“No, I—”

“I’ve only been here half a day, as you reminded me yesterday, but it’s long enough to know that other people’s feelings don’t seem to matter much to you, Michelle.”

Michelle glanced uncertainly at Mack.

“Just a minute, Claire,” he said.

But Claire’s wrath was still focused on Michelle. “You had no right to take my son without asking!” With Danny’s back pressed against her thighs, she crossed shaking hands over his chest. “It’s bad enough we have no choice except to be here, but for you to think so little of my peace of mind that you’d whisk Danny off and leave me to wonder and worry and imagine all sorts of horrible possibilities is just too much!” She drew in a deep breath, trembling all over.

“Gosh, I’m really sorry,” Michelle repeated, with none of her usual flippancy.

“Was it too much trouble to wake me and ask to take my son?”

Danny caught her hand. “Mommy…”

Claire ignored him. “If I could, I would pack our things and leave here this instant!”

“Mommy—” Danny pulled at her hand.

Claire turned to Mack. “What kind of people are you? Don’t you ever think of anybody but yourselves?”

“Just a damn minute, now!” He took a step toward her. “Maybe Michelle was wrong in bringing Danny out without asking, but seems to me you’re taking out other frustrations on her. You ask what kind of people we are—no different from most. We’re trying to be rational, and that’s more than—”

“Rational!” Now that she’d vented her outrage, her other emotions were threatening to overflow. Suddenly she felt close to tears. “F-forcing me to c-come here, d-demanding time with my son when you were perfectly happy to deny his existence before Carter died, then taking advantage of that hideous situation at the hotel.” She drew a new breath, blinking fast. “And why did we have to stay there, anyway? We would have been just fine at the Holiday Inn. But no, because you say so, we have to experience the quaint southern thing and check into a hotel right out of a trashy novel…” She looked away, struggling to keep herself together.

“Mommy…” Danny tugged again. “I think you need some time in the quiet corner.”

All three looked at Danny, then at each other. Sheepishly. Claire pressed her fingers to her temples, realizing how hysterical she sounded. How irrational. Even Danny knew it. Shaking her head, she whispered to no one in particular, “What am I doing?”

“Mommy, can I talk now?”

“What, Danny?” she managed to say, breathing in to try to regain her composure.

“You’re gonna be mad.” Warily, he watched her use both hands to wipe tears from her cheeks.

“Try me anyway, Danny.”

“Michelle didn’t bring me outside this morning. I came all by myself.”

She glanced in disbelief at the barn and then in the direction of the big house. It could hardly be seen from here. “How on earth did you find the barn?”

“I followed the dirt road, you know like in The Wizard of Oz, only it’s not a yellow brick road here, it’s dirt.”

There was an uneasy silence. Claire glanced at Michelle, then closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this.”

“Actually, I suppose I’m to blame,” Michelle said, shifting a little as the mare nudged her from behind. “Last night, I promised Danny if he’d go to sleep and not bug you, I’d show him the horses and the pony that was just the right size for him.” She shrugged, then with a wry look she reached out and ruffled his hair. “Like I said, I always ride early in the morning. When he appeared, I didn’t really think about whether anybody knew where he was. I just assumed you knew.” She looked at Claire. “He’s safe at Sugarland, whether you know it or not.”

Claire chewed on her lower lip, wishing she were anywhere but at this horrible place. “I apologize for losing control,” she said stiffly. “I don’t usually make such a fool of myself.”

Michelle shrugged. “You were scared. It’s a motherthing. Forget it.”

Nodding reluctantly, Claire glanced at Mack. Michelle might be willing to forget her outburst, but he wouldn’t. Fortunately, she didn’t care what he thought.

“Can we look at my pony now?” Danny begged.

She let him pull her toward the barn.

Claire wasn’t sure what to expect for the rest of that day, but to her relief, Michelle didn’t seem to hold any resentment and had even invited her to come along for Danny’s promised pony ride. He’d been enchanted with the pony, of course, and with everything else about Sugarland. In a way, Claire envied his youthful enthusiasm. How nice to be innocent enough to accept at face value this place, this new experience, even these people.

He fell into an exhausted nap after lunch. Claire seized the chance to slip out of the house and spend a few peaceful moments with her own thoughts and—she admitted it—to indulge her curiosity about Sugarland. Behind the house, at the end of a meandering brick walk, she turned a corner and discovered a pond—or maybe it was a small lake. To her delight, situated in the middle of it was a gazebo.

Did everything in this place look like something out of a storybook? she wondered, walking the wooden footbridge that spanned the water. Inside the gazebo, she spent a moment gazing around at the peaceful setting. In one direction, the big house was visible, its frame shimmering in the August heat. To the west was a vast expanse of green sugarcane. Along the perimeter of the field, a dust plume billowed out behind a slow-moving farm vehicle. Beyond that, a lush, dark line of trees marked a bayou.

She sat down on a wrought-iron settee. Only a light breeze stirred the willow trees ringing the pond. Clumps of purple iris at the water’s edge attracted butterflies and bees. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. All her life she’d been a city dweller, but she had often imagined she would like country living. Pushing aside thoughts of why she was here, she lost herself in the peace and sounds and smells of deep summer.

Something brushed her ankle. Glancing down, she saw that a dragonfly was perched on the end of her sneaker. Gazing at its wide, fragile wings, she thought of her own precarious fate. How could she continue to stay with the McMolleres indefinitely? Where else could she and Danny go to be safe?

“Want some company?”

For a big man, Mack McMollere moved almost silently, she thought. Backlighted by the glare of the sun on the water, he seemed to fill the arched entrance of the small structure. How had he managed to get so close without making a sound? Shrugging wordlessly to let him know she had no objection to his company, she watched him push away from the arch and come inside.

The settee creaked with his weight as he took a seat beside her, shifting until he was wedged between the back and side arm. It gave him a clear view of Claire.

“Didn’t take you long to find the choice spot at Sugarland, did it?”

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “I can see why southern Louisiana has inspired so many writers and poets.”

“Yeah, mosquitoes, humidity, relentless heat ten months out of the year, and to top it off, alligators. You can’t get much more romantic than that.”