She sniffed and withdrew her hand from his, pulling her house keys out of her pocket. “Just what you need. A neighbor who makes a pest of herself and then makes things worse by crying.”
“I’m not complaining,” he said.
She separated her house key from the others, and Zach took it from her. He stood, and a second later, she heard the screen door open, then the snick of the lock. He pushed the door open. When she stood and joined him at the door, he pressed the keys into her hand.
“Want me to come in? Make sure there’s no boogeyman in the closet?”
She shook her head. “I had the locks changed yesterday, so I should be okay.” She swallowed and looked over at the driveway. “I’d just gotten home and saw him go around to the back of the house, and…well…I probably overreacted.”
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Belittle yourself like that.” He dipped his head a little so he could meet her gaze. “Sure you don’t want me to check?”
“It’s fine.” She was sure of no such thing, but she could only imagine the ruckus she’d have on her hands if Zach came in and Foley was somewhere watching. Lately, he seemed to know more about her whereabouts than she did. She shook her head against that thought. “Really.”
“Suit yourself.” Zach let go of the screen door and turned toward the edge of the porch. “Good night.”
“’Night,” she said. He was off the porch before she called his name. When he turned around to face her, she said, “Come for breakfast. My place—the Pine Street Café. It’s at the corner of Main and Pine.”
He nodded. “I saw the sign.”
Deciding she had lost her mind, given her vow to keep her distance, she watched him cross the street. She locked the door and went through her house, turning lights on in each room as she headed for the kitchen.
Once again, the stupid melancholy hit her, weighing her down like a heavy coat. She had tried so hard to overcome it, but here she was again. Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the kitchen and turned on the back-porch light. It flooded her yard clear to the small old barn at the back of the property. She visually searched the lit area a moment before turning off the light. Feeling exposed, she methodically pulled the curtains closed on all the windows, though doing so made her feel like the proverbial ostrich.
She couldn’t wait to wash off the greasepaint and go to bed. She’d get a scant four hours of sleep since she had to be at the café for breakfast prep two hours before it opened. After double-checking the new lock on the front door, she turned off lights and headed upstairs.
And found the door to the nursery open.
Since she kept the door closed—always—her heart lurched. She reached inside the room, and flipped on the light.
The lamp in the corner bathed the yellow walls in a cheerful glow. Everything looked as it had this morning when she’d dusted. As always happened when she entered the room, she remembered the excitement she had felt when she had found out she was having a little girl. She had refinished furniture and made bed linens and had planned to name her baby Eleanor after her mother and grandmother.
The nursery stood ready for the child who had never come home. Foley had accused her of turning the room into a shrine, but that wasn’t it at all. She was simply keeping the room ready for the child she prayed would soon be hers to love and cherish.
And then her gaze lit on a teddy bear sitting in the middle of the crib. A bear that hadn’t been there earlier in the day.
She began to shake.
Foley had been in her house. Again.
And changing the locks hadn’t kept him out.
TWO
Her heart pounding so hard it hurt, Léa slowly crossed the room. There was nothing malevolent looking about the stuffed animal, but it was no more welcome on the crib than a rattlesnake would have been. The bear’s foot covered an envelope. With trembling fingers, Léa picked it up.
Early in her marriage, she had thought of Foley’s habit of giving her cards as endearing. Later she had come to dread them because they always, always picked at her in some covert way. He was the good guy, trying to make amends. She was the one who didn’t understand. As usual, there was no name on the envelope. And why would there be, since he never called her by her name?
She pulled the tab out of the back of the envelope and slid the heavy card out. A picture of a pair of teddy bears leaning against each other was on the front of the card. She opened it and read,
Baby, I know about your adoption application. I have a plan you’re going to like.
The card was signed with his initial F in a big, bold stroke that overshadowed the words.
Léa’s heart started to pound as she crumpled the card. Of course he knew about the adoption application. In Rangeview everybody knew everything about everyone else. Her aunt Jackie had undoubtedly told her uncle Curtis, the chief of police. And he would have told Foley.
And of course he would have a plan. He always did. That awful night—he’d had a plan then, as well. He had wanted to sell her grandmother’s house so they could build a new one with all the conveniences he wanted. What Léa had wanted hadn’t mattered at all, and, when she had tried to explain why the house was so important to her, he had refused to listen. He had stormed out and returned a few hours—and a lot of beers—later, and they’d had a stupid argument with both of them shouting. She had turned to go down the stairs…and the next thing she remembered was the long ride in the ambulance and her consuming fear for her baby. Everything had shattered in an instant.
The telephone rang and jarred her back to the present.
She glanced at her watch while the phone pealed again. Twelve-fifteen. Since it was after midnight, only one person could be calling.
Her answering machine picked up, and the instant her leave-a-message recording ended, Foley’s voice came through the speaker. “I know you’re there, baby. Pick up the phone.”
She moved to the doorway, drawn by the voice, needing to know what he would say, hating that she needed to know.
“I can see the lights on.”
She had no idea if he really could see because he was close by and calling from his cell phone, or if he was guessing. Irritated that he was playing mind games with her, she went down the hallway to her dark bedroom where she peeked out the window.
From her answering machine downstairs, Foley continued to talk.
“Okay, be that way. You just need to understand one thing. You’re being plain stupid if you think you can adopt a kid without me. You need me to make this work. You know you do. I’m done with being patient.”
“And I’m done with this nonsense,” she muttered. As soon as she was sure that he’d disconnected the call, she picked up the phone and dialed the number for her aunt and uncle’s house. Never mind the late hour, her chief-of-police uncle
