Honey Moon (52 page)

Guy plucked the candy from Becca's fingers. "Now, Rachel, there's no need for that." He unwrapped the candy and gave it to Becca. "Here, sweetheart."

Rachel gazed at him with disgust. "Daddy says—"

"What your father says isn't important anymore," Lilly snapped. "He's not here, and I am."

Guy saw that Lilly was upset and he came over to comfort her. Becca began to cry. Red syrup from the candy leaked from the corner of her mouth. Rachel glared at her mother and then turned to her sister.

"Crying's for babies, Becca. Daddy'll stop being so busy soon and have time for us. He will! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"That son of a bitch," Guy muttered, his voice so low that only Lilly could hear.

"How could he do this

to them? Still, I suppose it's all for the best. They're young enough now to adjust. If he had abandoned them when they were older, it would have been doubly traumatic."

Lilly couldn't imagine how anything could be more traumatic than what had already happened. She was ruining her own life trying to protect children who weren't the slightest bit grateful, but she couldn't weaken. Even if her daughters hated her for it, she would protect them from their father's perversion.

Guy had gone back over to the girls, and Rachel gave a squeal of delight at something he had said. "Really? Can me and Becca get pizza, too? And can I watch television before I go to bed?"

"Absolutely." Guy tousled her hair.

Lilly's heart slammed against her rib cage. "Daddy—"

"Not another word, Lilly." He regarded her sternly. "You need a rest, and the girls are going to stay with me for a few days so you get it."

"No, Daddy, I don't—"

"Help your sister change into some dry clothes, Rachel, and then we'll go."

Lilly tried to protest, but her father paid no attention. Her head was pounding, her stomach rolling. She hated the idea of her daughters going off with her father, and she hated herself even more for being so jealous. What kind of mother was she to resent a loving grandfather's relationship with his own grandchildren?

She forced herself to return several changes of their clothing to the suitcase she had just unpacked. The upheaval in her stomach grew worse. While her father was occupied with the girls, she slipped into her bathroom and vomited.

She felt better with her stomach empty, but her head was still pounding. She quickly swallowed three aspirin and went back into the bedroom.

The excitement of staying with her grandfather had overstimulated Rachel. She was running up and

down the back hallway and screeching at the top of her lungs. Guy, however, seemed to have the magic touch with her and when he told her to settle down, she obeyed.

They were ready to leave when they discovered that Becca had disappeared.

Rachel found her hiding in the back of Lilly's closet. Her pants were wet again, and Lilly had to change her.

"Don't forget, Mommy," Rachel said as she stood at the front door holding her grandfather's hand. "If Daddy calls while we're gone, tell him to come get us."

For nine long months, every time she left the house, Rachel had said the same thing. Lilly clenched her teeth, an action that intensified the throbbing in her head, but painful experience had taught her that Rachel would refuse to leave if her request was ignored. "I won't forget," she said stiffly.

"Kiss your mother good-bye, girls," Guy said.

Rachel obediently gave Lilly a loud smack. Becca was unresponsive.

Guy pecked Lilly's cheek. "Don't worry about a thing, darling. Call some friends and enjoy yourself for

a few days. The girls and I will be fine."

Lilly felt as if someone had taken a hammer and chisel to her head. "I don't know. The girls are so . . ."

"Don't fret, darling. Come along, girls. How about a stop for ice cream on the way?"

Rachel gave an earsplitting shriek and tugged on her grandfather's hand. Becca followed obediently.

Guy held the door of his Jaguar sedan open and they clambered inside. His hair glinted in the California sunshine, and his straight white teeth flashed as he smiled. He was so handsome. So horribly, obscenely handsome.

"Their seat belts!" Lilly called out. "Don't forget their ..."

Guy had already fastened the belts, and he waved his hand to indicate that he had heard. Moments later, he was backing down the drive.

Lilly rushed forward. "Be good!" she called out. "Don't do what Grandpa tells you." She caught her breath. What was wrong with her? "I mean—"

She felt cold and feverish at the same time, and she stumbled slightly as she made her way back inside

the house and to her bathroom. Even though it was still light outside, she swallowed two sleeping pills. Her father was right. She was falling apart, and she had to get some rest. She climbed into bed without removing her clothes.

Afternoon slipped into evening, and the nightmares engulfed her. In her dreams she was running. A faceless woman raced after her, hands with blood-red fingernails extended and splayed. One by one

those long blood-red nails shot off the ends of her fingers, turned into daggers, and stabbed her in the back. Lilly turned to her father for help, only to realize that he held the biggest dagger of all and it was pointed at Rachel. The horror enveloped her. And then it wasn't her father coming after her, but Eric, and he wanted Rachel. Mustering all of her strength, she cried out.

The strangled sound of her own scream awakened her. The room was dark, and for a moment she didn't know where she was. She gripped the cover, afraid to sit up, afraid to move for fear some indefinable horror would claim her. Her hair was stuck to her cheeks like a web, and she could hear a horrible pounding in her ears.

Eric's face swam before her eyes, a vision of filth and decay all the more obscene because of his physical perfection. As she struggled to clear her mind from the aftereffects of the sleeping pills she had taken, she was flooded by a paralyzing realization that she had made a horrible mistake by not telling her father about Eric. What if Eric went to Guy's house and took Rachel? Her father didn't know about Eric's perversion. He wouldn't know that he shouldn't hand her over. What if Guy let Eric have her?

Through the fog of her sleeping pills and the lingering horror of her nightmare, she was gripped by the awful certainty that Eric had done just that. He had taken Rachel, and her daughter was in desperate trouble.

Her body was leaden, and the bile rose in her throat as she remembered that Becca was with her father, too. But then she knew that Eric would never molest Becca. Her condition would repulse him. Rachel was his target. The stronger daughter.

Whimpering, she climbed from the bed and groped for her shoes. Then she staggered from the room,

still trying to escape from her narcotic-induced fog. Her purse lay on the glass-topped credenza in the hallway, and she dug through the rubble of crumpled tissues, animal crackers, and boarding passes until she found her car keys.

Gripping them in her fist, she picked up her purse and stumbled through the kitchen on her way to the garage. She had to get to Eric before he could hurt Rachel.

A set of Danish cutlery mounted in a polished block of teak caught her eye.

After only a moment's hesitation, she pulled a heavy knife from its slot and placed it in her purse. She squeezed her eyes shut, the lids trembling. She knew she wasn't a good mother. She was self-centered, impatient, and she never seemed to do the right thing. But she loved her daughter, and she would do whatever was necessary to protect her.

* * *

Eight miles away in the hills of Bel Air, Guy Isabella tucked the covers around his granddaughter's small body with one hand while he clasped a tumbler of whiskey with the other.

"Why can't I sleep with Becca, Grandpa Guy?" Rachel gazed apprehensively up at the room's high ceiling and then over at the tall windows with their diamond-shaped leaded-glass panes. Grandpa Guy had told her this used to be her mother's room, but Rachel didn't like it. It was dark and spooky.

"Rebecca has been asleep for almost an hour," her grandfather said. The ice cubes clinked in his glass.

"I didn't want you to wake her."

"I'd be real quiet. I might get scared if I have to sleep by myself."

"Nonsense. You won't be scared." He ran the tips of his fingers over Rachel's lips. "Grandpa Guy will check on you before he comes to bed."

"I want to sleep with Becca."

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart. Grandpa Guy will be near." Bending down, he pressed his lips lightly over Rachel's.

* * *

Eric rubbed his eyes and stared at the telephone next to his bed as he unbuttoned his shirt. How many times in the three weeks since he'd returned had he wanted to call Honey? A hundred? A thousand? He told himself that it was a good thing the park's only telephone was in the Bullpen where she wouldn't

hear it if he finally gave into temptation. She had already let him know in every way possible that he couldn't compete with a ghost, and he had no intention of groveling.

It was nearly midnight, and he had been up since five, but even though he was exhausted, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for more than a few hours. His new role was both physically and emotionally demanding, and he wasn't giving it his best, but he couldn't seem to manage all the peeling away of layers that he had to go through to get to the heart of a character. Maybe because he still hadn't managed to put himself back together since the night he had peeled himself away for Honey. How could he do his actor's job of entering another person's soul when he felt so personally exposed? It was as if he had left part of himself behind with her, and until he was complete again, he would drift.

The idea made him angry. He had to scrub her memory from his mind, erase the sound of her laughter as she had played with the children at the hospital, drive out the images of the two of them making love. Most of all, he had to forget her soft, sweet compassion the night he had taken off his clown's mask and laid himself bare to her.

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted his disturbing thoughts. He frowned.

His Nichols Canyon house was tucked away on a nearly inaccessible road, hardly a convenient spot for drop-in company. He didn't bother to rebut-ton his shirt as he made his way from his bedroom to the front entry. When he reached the door, he peered through the peephole and then quickly turned the knob.

"Lilly?"

Her teeth were chattering, and her skin looked pale and pinched. She had cut her hair since he had seen her and it hung about her face in silvery-blond wisps that made her eyes look huge and haunted.

She stared at him as if she were looking at something profane. Her eyes took in his unbuttoned shirt and then dropped to the open snap on his jeans. Her mouth began to quiver. "Where is she?"

He shoved one hand wearily back through his hair. "What do you want, Lilly?"

"What have you done with her?"

She grabbed the door frame for support and he reached for her arm, beginning to grow alarmed. "What's wrong?"

She tried to pull away from him, but he drew her inside. He led her into the living room and pushed her down on the sofa. Her breathing was quick and shallow, and she was clutching her purse to her chest.

He grabbed a bottle of brandy from the bar and splashed some into a glass.

"Drink this."

The rim of the glass clinked against her teeth. She swallowed and then coughed.

"Tell me what's happened?" he demanded. "Is something wrong with the girls?"

She passed a trembling hand over her mouth and rose unsteadily to her feet.

Instinctively, he reached

out to catch her, but she drew back. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Rachel! I know you have her."

His heart missed a beat. "I don't have her. For God's sake, what's going on?"

"I don't believe you. You took her from my father. Where have you put her?

Where is she?"

"I didn't even know you were back in town. How could I have taken her? Are you telling me you don't know where she is?"

"Liar!" she shrieked. Bolting past him, she ran toward the back of the house.

He rushed after her and then watched as she threw open the door of the guest room. When she saw that it was empty, she moved onto the next room and the next until she reached his bedroom. His gut churned as he stopped inside the doorway. She stood in the center of the room clutching her purse to her chest, her eyes opalescent with terror.

"What have you done with Rachel?" she whispered hoarsely.

He forced himself to stay calm. She was barely holding onto the threads of reason, and if he said the wrong thing, he could push her over the edge.

Sounding as composed as he could manage, he stepped cautiously into the room.

"When did you last see her?"

"Daddy took her for the night." Her speech was choppy, and she was twisting her purse strap around her fingers. "Becca, too. He took Becca, too. I knew I shouldn't let them go, but I was so tired."

"It's all right, Lilly," he said soothingly, moving a little closer. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, I did!" She began to whimper. "You don't understand. I never told him about you. He didn't know that you could hurt Rachel."

"I haven't hurt Rachel," he said quietly. "You can see she's not here. I love her.

I'd never hurt her."

"Liar!" she shrieked. "Daddy loved me! He loved me, and he hurt me."

He could feel the hair begin to stand up on the back of his neck. "Lilly, what are you talking about?" He moved too quickly and she shrank back.

"Don't touch me!" Her eyes were wild, the pupils dilated. "You'll hurt me.

You'll hurt me like you hurt Rachel."

He froze in his tracks.

She began to cry. "She doesn't like it when you hurt her .. . but she can't make you stop." Her voice grew higher in pitch, more childlike. "You tell her not to ... make any noise .. . when you touch her. Don't make any noise, sweetheart.

I won't hurt you. Just shut your eyes. But she can't.. . shut her eyes. And you . . . smell like whiskey."