Mary Jane knew he was Juliet’s client. And that he’d been with her mother once, a long time ago. What else did this precocious child know? The extent of his crimes? Why her mother never told him that she existed?
“She didn’t lie to you.”
Mary Jane didn’t believe him, not that he blamed her. He knew what it felt like to be lied to.
“I didn’t have any idea you existed until I saw you with your mother on the beach,” he said. “I knew she had a cottage somewhere on Mission Beach, that’s all. She’d never told me where. Freedom needs practice being around people. Mission Beach is a little busier than mine, but not too busy, so it seemed like a good choice.” It struck him that he was a grown man, sitting on the beach, confiding in an eight-year-old child.
He’d thought earlier that this child’s mother had brought him something he’d been searching for his entire life—a sense of peace that could be found with the right person.
Not with her—never again with her. But perhaps with the daughter she bore him.
IT WAS GETTING DARK. Pacing between the front door and the back, the beach and the street, with Freedom alongside her, Juliet watched frantically for anyone who might show up with her baby girl in tow. Duane and Donna were out, Marcie was out, some of the neighbors were out.
Blake was out.
The police had full descriptions and pictures, and had put out an alert.
Juliet was home in case the little girl returned on her own, and to answer the phone.
She was doing that, and slowly losing her mind. This morning she’d been relatively happy. She’d managed to patch things up with Mary Jane and Marcie. And she had Blake Ramsden on the periphery of her life, wanting to be her friend.
This morning she’d held her daughter in her arms.
Tonight, Mary Jane was gone. And two of the three people who owned her heart hated her.
Freedom whined, shoving his nose into her palm. She rubbed his black head almost unconsciously.
God, please let her be okay.
The eight-year-old had been gone for almost four hours. At best, she had to be getting hungry. At worst…
Juliet couldn’t even think about it. Not and stay standing.
That look in Blake’s eyes when he’d realized Mary Jane was his child tortured her. Over and over again. She’d lost the respect of the one man whose regard meant more to her than her independence.
And the worst part was, she’d deserved that look. She’d robbed a father of eight years of his daughter’s life.
Just as she’d robbed her sister of the confidante she’d needed at one of the most critical times of her life.
And at least partly because she had this contrary habit of believing that she knew what was best for everyone. How in the hell had she developed such an ego? And without knowing it? No, it had taken seeing everyone she cared about in pain before she’d recognized that little fact about herself. It had taken these hours of being utterly alone.
She’d meant well. And that fact didn’t do anyone one bit of good.
Her gaze stretching so far her eyes ached, Juliet took in the beach for at least the hundredth time. Where was he? Had he found her?
She looked and saw nothing. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes again. She’d fallen apart a couple of times since Marcie had announced that Mary Jane was gone.
For once in her life she felt completely powerless. There was no way she could fix this one. She just didn’t know what to do.
Except check out front again to see if anyone was coming.
No one was. Juliet’s head dropped against the front window as sobs shook her shoulders.
“Oh God, Mary Jane. Please come home. Please, baby. I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t tell him about you. I love you, baby. Please come home…”
At first the words just played over and over in her mind. But eventually, as she stood there, a dead weight against the window, she started to talk to her daughter out loud. The words were sometimes indistinguishable, broken up by almost animalistic moans of pain, but she continued to talk to Mary Jane. Maybe the little girl would feel the power of her need.
Or maybe she was losing her mind.
“I didn’t lie to you, imp. I’d never lie to you…”
“I know.”
Juliet froze, her forehead wet and sticky against the window.
“I know you didn’t lie. Blake told me.”
She spun around and then, with huge, gulping sobs, grabbed up the child who had miraculously appeared in the room behind her. If she was demented, so be it. She didn’t want them to ever bring her out of it. Freedom was barking like crazy.
“Mary Jane?” She couldn’t let go long enough to look at the child’s face. But she knew the heart beating against her own. “Thank God. Oh, thank God.”
She had no idea how many minutes passed before she noticed the man standing behind their daughter, watching her. No matter what happened from there on out, how much he hated her, how horrible he was to her, she would always be grateful to him. Blake had brought her baby back to her.
The irony in that didn’t escape her.
IT WAS ANOTHER TWO HOURS before Juliet had a chance to be alone with Blake. Once she’d assured herself that, while Mary Jane might look a mess, she was none the worse for her escapade, Juliet had the wherewithal to call the cell phones of the other searchers and tell them that Mary Jane had returned. She owed them all more than she’d ever be able to repay.
And she called off the cops.
Everyone, including the pair of officers she’d spoken with earlier, stopped at the house, just to see for themselves that the little girl was fine. They all wanted to hear the story of how Blake had heard her whimpering behind a rock several miles from home, and then carried her all the way back.
Sitting at the kitchen table eating a peanut butter sandwich after her bath, with Freedom sleeping under the table at her feet, Mary Jane held court with her visitors, telling them about her adventure. The little girl would have to be punished, Juliet knew that, but not yet. Not tonight. Tonight she was home and safe, and needed all the nurturing she was getting.
It wasn’t every day that, with no warning, a girl came face-to-face with a stranger who also happened to be the man who’d fathered her.
And when Mary Jane’s eyes started to droop, everyone except Blake said their goodbyes.
The neighbors had given the tall, good-looking man several curious looks. Duane Wilson was going to be grilling her like crazy when she got to work on Monday, asking why her client had been on her beach in the first place.
“It’s past your bedtime,” Juliet announced as soon as the front door closed. She needn’t have bothered. Mary Jane was already off her chair, hugging her aunt Marcie good-night. Juliet waited to walk with her down the hall and tuck her in. Tonight, of all nights, she wasn’t going to miss that.
She had to blink back more tears when Mary Jane stopped in front of Blake.
“Thank you for finding me,” the child said solemnly, staring up at him.
His eyes glistened as he gazed at his daughter, as though enraptured. “You’re welcome.”
“And I’ve thought over what you said and it’s okay for you to see me again. But I still don’t need a father.”
He