Harmony started to cry. Charlotte wasn’t sure what to do, but before she could decide, she’d put her arms around the girl and pulled her close.
“When was the last time you ate?” she asked, as Harmony, bending at the waist, sobbed against her neck. She felt the girl’s shoulders hunch in answer.
“Will your car be okay here tonight?” Charlotte asked, making a decision.
“I…I guess. But I don’t—”
“You’re coming home with me, and don’t worry, you can call your friend and tell her where you are. You’ll be safe. I’m not a serial killer.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
Charlotte was afraid she did. She was afraid no one needed to do it more.
Chapter Six
LIVING IN ASHEVILLE was a trade-off for Taylor Martin. At first, after Maddie’s problematic birth, the city of Taylor’s own birth was the only place she could live. Without her father’s help, both financial and emotional, she would never have been able to support herself and care for her daughter.
Jeremy’s parents, who also lived in town, had helped, as well, and despite Taylor’s disdain for her daughter’s father, she couldn’t dislike the senior Larsens. From the beginning they had stepped up to the plate, insisting that Jeremy acknowledge the baby, then offering financial support. After Maddie’s birth they had put their son through college, or tried to, but they had also made certain Jeremy understood that once he was earning a living, they expected him to take over the child support payments.
The Larsens were now only part-time Asheville residents, migrating to Florida for the coldest months, but when they were in town, they were enthusiastic babysitters, available at a moment’s notice. While nowadays Jeremy paid his own child support, his parents paid all the health care extras insurance didn’t cover.
Taylor knew she should consider moving to a city with more and better jobs, perhaps one with specialists making their mark in neurobiology. But nowhere else on the planet would she have the support system she had here, and nowhere else would Maddie be surrounded by so many people who loved her.
This evening she reconsidered that conclusion. Classes at Moon and Stars were physically grueling, and in addition to yoga, she also taught Pilates at a local gym. For this she was paid enough to keep body and soul together, but not much more. She had a degree in Health and Wellness promotion and had hoped to go on to something in the medical field, but earning one degree had been difficult enough, even with a network of friends and family.
Asheville was short on jobs and long on people with the same kind of skills she had. At times like this she found herself imagining a less exhausting way to survive. The truth was, she was lucky to have the jobs she did. Her employers at both the gym and the yoga studio understood that sometimes Maddie needed Taylor more than her students did. That benefit was impossible to beat.
This evening, when she pulled up in front of her house, she stared up at the crescent moon rising overhead. She knew Maddie was all right or her father would have called. Her daughter was probably sleeping off the effects of the most serious seizure Taylor remembered in years, what her doctor had called a “breakthrough” seizure on the phone, since it had been an escalation of symptoms. She’d been so sure they had finally gotten the medications right. Dr. Hilliard had been cautiously optimistic, as well. And now they might have to start all over.
She got out of the car and only then noticed that her father’s Acura was no longer in front of her house. His spot had been taken by a familiar yellow Volkswagen bug.
The front door of the house was unlocked, which was no surprise. Taylor locked up at bedtime, but the neighborhood was quiet, and the neighbors on both sides had great-grandchildren and time to watch the world go by outside their windows. Her neighbors were another reason she didn’t want to move to a better job in a faceless city.
She closed the front door loudly so her guest would know she was home. The house was so small she was through the living room and kitchen in seconds, then beyond to the family room that was just large enough for a small television and sofa. The television was off and Samantha Ferguson was curled up on the cushions, but if she’d been sleeping, she wasn’t now. She smiled, arms out and fists clenched as she stretched.
“You’re not my father,” Taylor said. “He’s older, and his hair’s turning gray.”
“I forgot you were teaching this evening. I popped by on my way back from Mom’s, so I told him I’d wait for you. He looked tired. I think he was glad to go.”
Taylor felt a twinge of guilt. Her father adored Maddie, but she wondered if she was taking advantage of his devotion. By drawing constantly on his support and help, was she keeping him from finding a woman he could share his life with?
She tossed her backpack on the coffee table and flopped down beside her friend. “Where’s Edna?”
“Mom’s got her. Tomorrow’s a field trip to a local farm, and Mom’s on spring vacation, so she said she’d chaperone.”
Taylor lowered her voice. “Maddie’s already asleep?”
“For a good hour. She was exhausted.”
“Dad told you what happened?”
“He said she had a generalized tonic-clonic seizure.”
Samantha’s medical training made it so easy to talk to her. Taylor was always grateful not to have to mince words. “Maybe it was an anomaly,” she said.
Samantha nodded. “It’s hard to know.”
Normally Taylor might have treated herself to a glass of wine after a long day, but Samantha didn’t drink, and the two women were such old friends that if Samantha had wanted anything else, she would have gotten it.
“She seemed okay?” Taylor probed.
“A little disoriented. I don’t think she got much homework done.”
“I’ll have to call her teacher. They try not to give homework over the weekend. Maybe Maddie can make up whatever she didn’t do on Saturday.”
Samantha was half lying, half sitting, with her dark hair spread against the back of the old sofa. She was of mixed ancestry, as if the continents of the world had huddled together at her creation. Her father had been half Korean, half African-American. Her mother’s heritage was unknown but likely European. Samantha’s face was long and elegant, her huge eyes slightly tilted, her hair wild, her complexion the color of almonds. She wasn’t classically beautiful, and exotic was too charged a word to describe her. She was distinctive, extraordinary. At twenty-nine, she’d already lived harder and faster than most people twice her age.
“Maddie told me she talked to Jeremy,” she said.
“Did she tell you what they talked about?” Taylor didn’t even try to mask a grimace.
“She told him about the seizure. She said he asked a lot of questions.”
“He’s good at questions. It makes him feel involved, like he’s actually participating in her life.”
“By my standards, sweet pea, he’s Father of the Year. He pays child support, and puts money aside for her college.”
There was something to be said for that. Samantha refused to even discuss Edna’s father, who she claimed was completely out of the picture. In contrast, last year, after one of his songs had sold to a recording company, Jeremy had sent Taylor an unexpected bonus check to sock away for emergencies. Taylor had to give the man some credit.
“Getting checks is great,” she said. “But he’s around just enough to remind Maddie that she has a father, and gone just enough to make her yearn for a real one.”
“What