Читать книгу His Wife - Muriel Jensen - Страница 9

Anchovies, pepper jack cheese, wheat crackers, beef jerky, marinated vegetables, oranges and taco-flavored corn chips. Sawyer Abbott checked the list in his hand against the contents of his cart and decided, as he crossed off the last item, that shopping wasn’t so hard. Kezia Chambers, the Abbott family’s housekeeper at Shepherd’s Knoll, had laughed when he’d told her he was headed for the Losthampton Market.

“You’re going to meet girls, aren’t you?” She was African-American and she and her husband, Daniel, the Abbotts’ chauffeur, had been part of the family for as long as Sawyer could remember. Over the years, she’d alternately scolded him and comforted him and his brother Killian, depending upon the situation. When their mother had left he was three and Killian was five, and she’d helped them accept their stepmother, Chloe, and the two babies she and their father had eventually added to their household. And when their little sister, Abigail, was taken at fourteen months of age, Kezia had been a brick.

“No, I’m not.” He’d pretended to be insulted. “As if I had to arrange to meet single women. They seem to find me.”

She’d rolled her eyes as she stirred the dark contents of a bowl with a wooden spoon. “You’re so spoiled. You were born with those fair good looks and that outrageous charm and you think they’ll never fail you, but someday you’re going to meet someone who’ll resist you. Then what will you do?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “I won’t want anyone who doesn’t want me. Now—do you need anything from the market? I just came to ask you as a courtesy. Don’t try to harass me the way you harass Killian.”

“Really?” She smiled and raised the wooden spoon from the bowl menacingly. A rich chocolate batter ran off the spoon, its sweet aroma wafting toward him. Brownies. “Even if I’m making your favorite treat?”

“Are you putting caramel and pecans in them?” he bargained.

“I might be convinced to do that, but you have to let me pick on you.”

He’d rolled his eyes theatrically. “Oh, all right. But there’d better be lots of caramel.”

“There will be. If you’d remember to give me your list when I go shopping, you wouldn’t have to pick up your own treats. China’s been here only two weeks and she remembers to tell me what she needs.”

“I know. She’s obviously smarter than I am. I’m just laying in a few personal supplies. Brian and I are working on one of his boats tonight, and even though he has that little store now, he has mostly survival stuff for tourists and none of my favorites.”

“Ha!” she teased. “Applaud him for his good taste.”

Brian Girard, a newly discovered half brother, the progeny of Sawyer and Killian’s perfidious mother and the next-door neighbor, had upped the Abbott-sibling count to five. Sawyer, Killian and Campbell—their other half brother and full sibling of Abigail—had been doing their best to make him feel welcome. Brian had refused Killian’s invitation to move into Shepherd’s Knoll, choosing instead to live in an old house his paternal grandmother had left him. He’d recently bought an old general store and boat rental at the edge of Losthampton on Long Island, and was learning about life as a merchant after having spent most of his adulthood in the corporate world with Corbin Girard, his natural father.

The fact that Corbin had hated and competed with the Abbotts and the Abbott Mills Corporation all his life was ignored by the brothers as they determined to make their own way in this new relationship.

And since Brian had literally saved Sawyer’s life when one of Sawyer’s stunts for charity had gone wrong, Sawyer felt obliged to make even more of an effort than the others. Actually, Brian was hardworking and witty, and liking him didn’t require much effort. His father had disowned him for helping the Abbotts, and without the old man’s predatory presence among them, they were getting along very well.

Sawyer suddenly remembered something he’d forgotten to put on the list but had thought about on the drive to town—the current Wall Street Journal. He’d promised Killian he’d keep an eye on their stock while he was gone.

Sawyer pushed his cart through the narrow aisles of the quaint little store that hadn’t changed much in one hundred and fifty years because its nineteenth-century-charm appealed to the tourists. He stopped at the book and magazine rack in back. Someone had apparently just rummaged through the newspapers on the bottom, so the usually orderly stacks were all jumbled. Sawyer squatted behind the rack to look for the Journal.

“Mister!” A high, urgent whisper made him look up into the dark eyes of a boy about eight. He was scrawny and flushed and appeared frightened. With him was a little girl slightly younger, who had the same dark eyes and tumbled dark hair. She, too, looked scared. Their hands and faces were dirty.

“What is it?” Sawyer asked, putting a hand to the boy’s shoulder.

“Can you help us?” the boy asked, his big eyes pleading.

Sawyer noted the boy’s anxious glance around the book rack.

“With what? What’s the matter?”

“We’ve been kidnapped!” the boy said, ducking. “We need you to help us!”

Sawyer stared at him. “What? Kidnapped by whom?”

The little girl nodded and pointed around the rack to a woman pushing a cart through the produce section. The woman wore a white shirt and denim pedal pushers and her dark hair was caught in a ponytail. She stopped to thump a watermelon.

Sawyer stepped back behind the rack and turned to the little girl, whose lip was trembling. “She took us from our mom in Florida!” she said.

“When?” he asked. That was an irrelevant question under the circumstances, he realized, but he was having trouble believing this was happening to him.

“Three days ago,” the boy replied. “We haven’t had much to eat. And she hid us in the back of the car under a blanket all the way from Florida.”

Sawyer peered out again and saw that the woman, though quite pretty, did seem drawn and tired, as though she had been driving for days. Suddenly, she looked up and around her, and the impatience and annoyance on her face were clear. “Eddie!” she called. “Emma!”

Sawyer leaned out of sight again, took the cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. A glance around the rack while he waited for a response told him the woman was headed this way. He caught the little girl by the hand and gestured for the boy to follow.

Emergency picked up and Sawyer explained the situation as he hustled the children across the market to the deli. He put the children behind the meat case and planted himself in the narrow opening between it and a case filled with salads while he finished his call. He told the dispatcher where they were, gave her a physical description of the woman, and rattled off his name and cell phone number. She promised officers would be there within minutes.

He turned off his phone and pocketed it, hearing the woman calling the children. She sounded as though she was going up one aisle and down the other. By the time she reached the deli, she was looking pretty desperate. He wasn’t surprised. She was being deprived of potential ransom money or the fulfillment of some sick need to mother children, anyone’s children.

Kidnap was not just an ugly headline to him but a stark reality, an event that had changed his life forever, and he hated to think of another family enduring such a horrible thing. Well, at least this time the children would be returned and the family wouldn’t be left to wonder for their entire lifetimes if the child was alive or dead, if she was suffering or terrified.

“Hey!” the boy asked softly from behind the case. “You’re that guy that does the stunts, aren’t ya?”

Sawyer nodded and put a finger to his lips.

“Have you got kids?” the little girl whispered loudly.

As Sawyer turned to quiet her, he heard the boy answer, “Of course he doesn’t, stupid! He isn’t even married!”

“Mom’s not married and she’s got us!” the girl replied in a “so there!” tone.

“Shh!” Sawyer hushed them as he saw the woman come down the aisle, still calling their names.

He felt belligerent as the woman pointed her cart toward him. To tell her what he thought of her would have been satisfying, but that might make her run before the police arrived. And he wanted her put behind bars before she did this to someone else’s children.

“Excuse me,” the woman said courteously, apologetically. “Have you seen two little children—a boy and a girl, around this height?” She held a hand, palm down, about waist high, then a little higher. “Big dark eyes, lots of hair, look a lot like me?”

He was silently applauding her performance as the worried mother when he noticed that the children did look a lot like her. Her eyes were also large and dark, and though her hair was more auburn than brown, it was thick like theirs. The boy had a dimple in his right cheek and so did she.

A horrible possibility began to form in his mind.

But natural mothers were always stealing their children from court-appointed guardians, he reminded himself. Still, the children would know she was their mother. Or would they?

“I don’t understand it,” she said anxiously. Mild concern was turning to serious fear. “It isn’t like them to—”

Before she could finish that sentence, Sawyer saw two policemen coming down the aisle, and he beckoned to them.

She hesitated, turning to see whom he was signaling. Her eyes widened at the sight of the policemen, then she turned back to him in confused surprise. A small crowd had gathered at the head of the aisle to see what the police were up to.

Sawyer recognized one of the officers as David Draper. He was tall, craggy-faced and middle-aged, a seasoned veteran of the force. He and Sawyer had worked together on community fund-raising.

Draper stopped halfway down the aisle. The younger officer, a stranger to Sawyer, also stopped, clearly wondering what Draper was doing. Draper shook his head then kept coming.

“This your kidnapper?” Draper asked Sawyer, one hand on his leather belt, the other on the butt of his holstered gun. He aimed his chin at the woman.

Sawyer nodded. “She took the kids three days ago from someplace in Florida. They haven’t had anything to eat and she’s kept them under a blanket in the back of her car.”

The woman expelled a gasp of dismay and put both hands to her face.

Aha! Sawyer thought, vindicated by that expression of guilt. Gotcha!

“She’s a hard case, all right,” Draper said. “Goes by the name Sophie Foster. ER nurse at Losthampton Hospital, sings at St. Paul’s Catholic Church—eight-thirty mass—and helps out at the crisis shelter for battered women. But she does have a problem with kids.”

“Stealing them?” Sawyer asked, not sure what to make of Draper’s description.

“No, raising them,” Draper replied. “She appears to have two little frauds on her hands. Can I see the children in question?”

This was not looking good. Sawyer could feel himself physically shrinking. He was about two feet high now. He reached behind the case and pulled out the boy. Inexplicably, the boy was grinning.

“I found him, Mom!” he exclaimed. “This is him! Brave! Willing to help! Not married! He’s perfect!”

The woman dropped her hands with a groan and said to Sawyer in a remarkably even voice, all things considered, “You know what, Mr—?”

“Abbott,” Draper provided before Sawyer could.

She was distracted for a moment. “The Shepherd’s Knoll Abbotts?” she asked Draper.

He nodded. “Second son.”

“Ah.” She nodded, then diverted her attention at Sawyer. He waited for the slow perusal women usually gave him that resulted in a smile of admiration, even when they pretended not to be interested. Of course, he’d just called the police on her, so he wasn’t entirely surprised when she did nothing but look into his eyes, her own very weary. “Tell you what, Mr. Abbott number two. You obviously care for these children, so how about if I just let you have them? Right now. No charge.” She turned to Draper. “That’s not a problem for you, is it? I mean, I’m not selling them—I’m just letting him have them.”

Eddie grinned up at Sawyer. “She’s just kidding. She loves us a lot.”

“Of course I do, Eddie” she said to the boy, “but you couldn’t possibly love me if you’d do something as mean as make me believe you’d gotten lost. And something as mean to this man as telling him that I’d kidnapped you.”

The little girl ran out from behind the case to wrap her arms around her mother’s hips. “We did it to help you find a daddy,” she said, “not to be mean. ’Cause you just can’t find one by yourself.”

SOPHIE WOULD HAVE HAPPILY abandoned her children, her job, her little cottage on the water and every one of her meager possessions for life somewhere on the Riviera.

According to novels and movies, life there would involve political intrigues, amassing of jewels or cash, achieving a high social position. Definitely easier than raising three children by herself while trying to erase painful memories and live in a world that seemed to work for everyone else but not for her.

Being trapped in an abusive relationship for several years had left her unable to bear a man’s touch, yet with a desperate need for it. She didn’t understand it and neither did her psychotherapist. And Father O’Neil could tell her only to keep praying, keep living her life and trusting in God to find her a solution.

She’d been doing that for two years, but there was no light on the horizon that she could see. Added to her confusion was the fact that her two younger children wanted a father so much. They hadn’t witnessed as much of Bill’s temper as had ten-year-old Gracie, who, like Sophie, didn’t want another man in her life. She was withdrawn and skittish, and Sophie ached every time she saw Gracie take a step back when a man approached.

Two of the children wanted a father, and one of them didn’t. They manifested, Sophie thought, the dichotomy that existed within herself.

So she prayed, and lived her life, and waited for a solution. Eddie and Emma’s current prank was making escape look better and better.

She was mildly entertained, though, by Abbott number two’s horrified expression.

“I’m so sorry,” he was saying, as Draper talked on his radio. “But they were dirty and seemed so frightened. And I saw you and thought you seemed…” He hesitated over the words on the tip of his tongue. She was enjoying his discomfort just a little; only fair, considering what he was putting her through.

“Cruel?” she asked. “Psychopathic?”

He shook his head guiltily. “No. No. Tired. A little stressed.” He put a gentle hand to Eddie’s head and smiled wryly. “Now I understand why. I haven’t been around kids very much. It didn’t occur to me that they’d lie about such a thing.”

She was inclined to believe him. “Kids this age are always dirty, and there’s a vast uncharted territory in their little minds between truth and fantasy. I just hauled them out of the backyard to go shopping. I should have bathed them first, but I was pressed for time.”

Actually, the man was very handsome in a wild Long Island–playboy sort of way. He had dark blond hair, which he wore in a spiked and disheveled style that made him appear youthful and somehow useless. But added to that was a pair of blue eyes that were sharply intelligent and surprisingly gentle at the same time. They were set in a handsome, nicely shaped face that managed to look strong without sharp angles or a square jaw.

He was tall and athletic in simple cotton slacks and a dark blue shirt. She glanced at the contents of his cart. He did have strange taste in food, however.

She didn’t want to have to explain to him about her younger children and their obsession about finding a father, but they had used and embarrassed him, and she owed him that much.

“They want a father,” she said with a sigh, “and I have no use for another husband, so it’s hard for us to come together on a solution to the problem. I just didn’t realize they were desperate enough to go searching one out on their own.”

“Another husband,” he said. “You mean you’ve already got one?”

She shook her head. “I had one. He’s gone.”

“He’s gone to heaven!” Emma said loudly, the way she said everything.

Sophie wasn’t sure that was where he was, but she didn’t mind that Emma thought so. That was about all this stranger should know about her difficult past, but she couldn’t just walk away until Dave Draper decided what he was going to do about Eddie and Emma.

“I saw your picture in the paper,” Eddie said to Sawyer Abbott, looking pleased with himself. “You did that dangerous stunt with the skis and the barrels. And you give lots of money to help children. That’s why we picked you out when we saw you buying oranges.”

Abbott squatted in front of him. “I’m flattered that you picked me out. But that was a pretty awful thing to do to your mom. What if a policeman had come who didn’t know that she really was your mom and he took her off to jail because he really thought she’d kidnapped you?”

The expression on Eddie’s face said he’d never considered that.

“I wondered if you’d help us,” Eddie said with a frown. “And not just with something easy, but with something really hard. ’Cause a lot of dads don’t help with the hard stuff. So, if we’re going to find another one, he’s got to be great.”

Clearly, Sawyer Abbott had no experience with children. Eddie already had him wrapped around his little finger. When Emma put her arm around his neck, he turned to look into her face and Sophie saw his eyes melt.

“Okay, that’s it,” she said, taking each child by the hand and drawing them back from him. “We’ll probably have to go to the police station, but Mr. Abbott didn’t do anything wrong, so Officer Draper will just let him go home. I’m sure he’s eager to get on his—”

“You have to come with me,” Draper announced, tucking away his radio. “Sorry, Mr. Abbott, but the chief wants to see you, too.”

“But all he did—” Sophie began to protest.

Draper cut her off with a nod. “I know, I know, but we need a full report,” he said with a significant glance at the children, intending to help them realize the gravity of what they’d done. “And in order to do that, we have to have Mr. Abbott’s input.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. She’d had a long day at the hospital, and the quick dinner she had planned, followed by a long period with her feet up, didn’t look as though it was going to materialize.

Abbott smiled. He had to be the most even-tempered man. “Not a problem. I’ll meet you at the station,” he said to Draper, who nodded, then took each of her children by the hand and led them toward a roped-off checkout line. The young officer went ahead of him to unhook it, then closed it after him when he followed her and the children through.

People were watching them with frowns, wondering, she was sure, what crime they’d committed. She’d be horrified if she wasn’t accustomed to policemen being called, usually on her behalf, and the shocked expressions of neighbors. This wasn’t what she wanted for her children. She and the kids would have to have a serious talk about this father-finding stuff when this was over.

She could only hope that being marched out by a police officer was having the desired effect on the children.

That hope was dashed when Eddie looked at her over his shoulder and said with a big grin, “Isn’t he great, Mom? He didn’t even get mad!”