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He studied a small purple-and-pink butterfly, rubbing a gleaming plastic wing between his thumb and forefinger. “I know that when Samantha does return, she’ll need help to care for Lucy properly.”
“And you plan to give her that help?”
“Of course.”
“By retaining custody of Lucy?”
Startled, he glanced at Claire, then averted his gaze. “I’m not qualified to care for a child.” His gaze settled on the bowl of murky water that Claire presumed had once been occupied by an unfortunate and now defunct creature of the fi
“You’re making this all sound very mysterious.”
The pain in his eyes shocked her. He raked his fingers through his hair, took a step backward and sat heavily in his lounge chair. “I spoke with Hank Miller this morning.”
“The sheriff?”
He nodded. “Hank placed a few discreet phone calls to friends in the Albuquerque police department. It seems that Samantha’s boyfriend, one Rodney F. Frye, is well-known to them. He was arrested for burglary last week. Sam bailed him out. He didn’t show up for the arraignment.”
Claire’s heart sank. “He skipped bail?”
“Apparently.” Joh
Claire sat slowly on the sofa beside the dozing infant. “If that’s true, it doesn’t seem Samantha is pla
Joh
“That’s an assumption on your part.” Claire flinched at the roughness of her own tone, but couldn’t suppress her anger at this woman. “So when she shows up, you’re simply going to hand Lucy back to her?”
The allegation clearly a
“So that makes it all right for her to choose a felonious lover over the well-being of her own child?” Unable to contain herself, Claire stood quickly, spun away from the man who was regarding her with u
Joh
Claire wiped the moisture from her eye, angry with herself for having revealed too much. “I take child neglect personally. Everyone should.”
He said nothing for a moment, simply leaned back in the chair and studied her in silence. Claire felt her skin heat. She absently smoothed her chambray shirt, rearranged the covers around the sleeping infant on the cushion beside her.
“Tell me about yourself, Claire.” It was a command, issued softly but in the tone of a man used to having his requests honored without question.
Sharing personal information didn’t come easily to Claire. “There’s not much to tell. I grew up like you did, with middle-class parents who worked hard and loved me the best they could. I went to college, became a doctor, settled in Buttonwood and am happy with my life.”
“Are you really?”
“Am I really what?”
“Happy with your life.”
“Yes.”
“And your parents, do you miss them?”
“We talk on the phone every week, but yes, I miss them.” She angled a glance. “Are you close to your parents?”
“No.”
When he said nothing further, she prodded him gently. “Do they live nearby?”
“My father is dead. My mother lives in California with her new husband.”
“Oh.” She fidgeted with the corner of the baby blanket. “How old were you when your mother remarried?”
Clearly, the conversation had shifted into forbidden territory. Joh
Claire nodded, was shocked by the unexpected sound of her own small voice whispering from a place she hadn’t explored in a very long time. “I do, too.” She paused a beat, gathered her courage to share something that few people knew about her, something she rarely discussed because it was too personal, too painful. “I never knew my birth parents. My mother gave me to an orphanage when I was Lucy’s age. No one knows who my father was. I was lucky enough to have been adopted by dear, loving people who gave me everything I ever needed in life. Everything except—” her voice broke “—except the knowledge of who I really am and where I come from.”
“That’s important to you?”
“Yes.” She sniffed, dabbed the wetness on her cheek with the back of her hand. “It will be important to Lucy, too.”
“Samantha has not abandoned Lucy.”
“Hasn’t she?”
His jaw clenched, his fingers tightened into a white-knuckled fist. “No, she hasn’t. She wouldn’t.”
Tears welled in Claire’s eyes, blurring her vision, stinging her lids. She gazed over her shoulder, unable to quell the trembling in her limbs. “You must have loved her very much,” she whispered, and was stu
Joh
Whatever Claire had expected to hear, that wasn’t it.
Joh
“I didn’t know you’d been married.”
He shrugged. “My ex-wife’s father owned the Phoenix law firm where I’d pla
“She felt neglected?”
“Yes. So I bought two tickets to the Bahamas, and came home early one afternoon with them to surprise her.” He plucked a piece of packing material off his slacks, studied it as if it were a small nugget. “She was surprised, all right. So was the guy in bed with her.”
“Oh, Lord.” Claire sat heavily on the sofa. “I’m so sorry, Joh
“Don’t be. It was for the best.” He flicked the tiny piece of plastic away, brushed his palms together. “I moved back to Buttonwood, started my own practice and the rest is history.”
“That’s when you and Samantha, er, began your relationship?”
Pursing his lips, he furrowed his brow. “I wouldn’t call it a relationship, exactly, but she’d just experienced yet another emotional breakup with the volatile Mr. Frye, so we were both alone, miserable and in need of comfort. There were no promises made, no pretense of anything beyond what it was—the sharing of two friends who needed each other.”
He sighed, lowered his hand and leaned forward, propping his forearms on his knees. “Both of us understood that what we shared would be temporary. I wasn’t looking for permanence, and Sam had already spent years in a turbulent relationship in which estrangements were as routine as the sunrise, and nearly as frequent. I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked when I returned from work one evening to find her closet empty except for a note saying she and Frye had reconciled yet again and they were moving to Albuquerque. Apparently, he has family in the area.”