Some kind of wonderful (24 page)

'Tommy Henderson forgot his car keys when he closed up and then broke the window in the back door to

get 'em. Old man Saugus nearly had a heart attack when that burglar alarm went off." Then he winced as if just remembering that Ed's heart attack was what had brought Jack back to town in the first place.

Ed waved a brawny hand at him. "My heart's fine. Just a little angina they called it. No need to walk soft around me."

"Then you'll be coming back soon?"

Now, was that disappointment or eagerness in the boy's eyes? Ed wondered. The flash of emotion had come and gone so quickly, he hadn't been able to identify it in time to recognize it. "Wanted to talk to you about that."

Something new flashed in Jack's eyes and this emotion Ed spotted instantly. Suspicion.

"What?"

"Wanda and me have been talking about getting one of those RVs and hitting the road."

"Huh?"

"I'm gonna retire, Jack." Hell, it didn't even hurt to say the word out loud anymore. It had stuck in his throat up until a week ago. As if admitting he was retirement age was saying he was too damn old. But a few afternoons in bed with Wanda had proven to both of them that there was fire in the old goat yet.

And dammit, he didn't want to waste what time he had left sitting behind a desk, riding herd on tourists and parking citations. "It's time," he said shortly, figuring Jack didn't need to hear his reasons. "And I want you to take the job permanent."

Jack shot to his feet as if someone had lit a rocket under his ass.

Ed talked fast. "I already spoke to the city council, they're all for it. Ken's a good deputy, but he hasn't got the

patience or the experience to deal with the townies or the tourists. And Hoover... hell, he'd as soon fish as sleep."

"No."

"Don't say no yet, dammit." Ed pushed himself more upright and glared at the younger man. Hard to have a good argument when you were practically stretched out lying down. "I've known you since you were a boy. All you ever wanted to be was a police officer. You were a damn good one too, Jack."

" 'Were' being the operative word."

"Bullshit." Ed slammed one closed fist down on the arm of the recliner. He knew the story. Was one of the few people in town who did. Probably just him and the Reillys. But when he'd offered this temporary job to Jack, he'd done it with all the information he could gather. He'd called LAPD and gotten the inside scoop from Jack's lieutenant. And the rage he'd felt on Jack's behalf hadn't settled yet. The boy had taken a hard hit that long-ago night, that was for sure. But you couldn't build your life around the events of one single night.

"That was a mess down there, no mistake," Ed said shortly. "But you did what you had to do and you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not staying," Jack insisted. "I can't."

"Can't or won't. Only you know the truth." Ed shoved his recliner back a notch, settling back into the comfortable sling of leather and sprung coils. "You think about it. You've got a little time yet."

"How long?" The question came through gritted teeth.

"I'm not officially retired for another two weeks, so I'm holding you to our deal," Ed warned, shaking his remote control at Jack. He scowled at the damn thing, then dropped it into his lap. "You agreed to take over for me and that's what you'll do."

"Two weeks."

"That's right," Ed said tightly, knowing Jack would never go back on his word. "And you do some thinking, Jack. This town needs you."

"Just get better, okay?" Jack muttered, not even replying to that last statement.

"I will. And so should you" Ed said.

But Jack was already headed for the hallway that would lead him to the front door.

"This town needs you, Jack," Ed called after him, "and you need this town, you damn hardheaded—"

He was gone.

Ed flopped back in the recliner and told himself he should have tried for more finesse. But there were times for smooth-talking and there were times to just say the truth flat-out. And dammit, it was past time somebody told Jack Reilly to stop paying for someone else's crime.

"Is Jack gone?" Wanda said as she stepped into the room wearing her new blue satin floor-length robe.

"Yeah, the obstinate, stubborn, foolish—" Ed's eyes widened as Wanda pulled open the edges of that slinky robe to display smooth skin and—Ed's breath caught hard in his chest—black stockings and a matching black bra and panties.

She walked toward him, a slow, secretive smile on her face, and Ed felt his heart jump in his chest.

"Who said retirement was boring?" he muttered as his wife of forty years cuddled in on his lap, took the remote control and turned off the TV.

Jack stepped outside, closing the Thompsons' front door behind him. He sucked in a long, deep breath and felt the hot, still punch of summer hit him hard. Up here on the

hillside, there was no ocean breeze to take the sting out of the heat. Even if there had been, though, it wouldn't have helped. He felt as if he couldn't breathe. Couldn't draw enough air into his lungs to get his body to move, his mind to think.

Permanent.

Hell.

He scooped his hair back from his forehead, then settled his cap on his head, pulling the brim down low, to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. He stared down the hill toward Christmas and told himself he'd walked into this with his eyes open. Doing a friend a favor. Well, no good deed goes unpunished.

It felt as though steel jaws were snapping closed around his ankles. He was trapped. By family. By friends. By good old Ed. By Carol.

He'd come home temporarily and all of a sudden it was as if he was in a labyrinth and couldn't find the way out. Didn't even know if there was a way out. Or if he should try to find it.

Down there, in the town, life moved on pretty much as it did every day. Nothing really changed in Christmas. The only thing that really changed were the people living in it. God knew, he'd changed. This had been his home. And now, Christmas was like an old suit. He wasn't sure it still fit, and even if it did, he didn't know if it would look good on him anymore.

"Permanent," he muttered, and if there was a flicker of excitement... eagerness in him for the word, he ignored it. He hadn't come back here to stay. He couldn't stay. Could he? No. He hunched his shoulders as if ducking a responsibility he no longer wanted. He stalked toward the 4Runner with the gold star and the word "sheriff" on the doors. Opening the driver's side, he climbed in,

turned the key, and hit the AC. Cold air slapped at him and he turned his face directly into the vent. Hell, he needed all the help he could get, to cool off before facing the town again.

Carol stopped at the grocery store after closing the shop for the day. With sunset, most of the heat had slipped away, and the sky was a burst of rose and peach that dipped down into the ocean at the horizon.

Two kids on skateboards whizzed past her, the steel wheels on their boards roaring like lions loose on the street. She left Quinn outside the market, and carrying Liz, stepped inside. She only had a few things to pick up, so she walked straight toward the aisle with the baby food, grabbed a can of formula, then walked to the last aisle for a package of spaghetti.

"You hungry, sweetie?" Carol crooned as Liz began to shift and twist in her arms. "Almost dinnertime, it's okay."

Muzak drifted from the overhead speakers and a fluorescent light over the meat department flickered wildly in time with the beat. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the bakery and mingled with a bank of fresh flowers waiting to be bought and carried home.

Striding down the aisle, Carol hesitated as Mary Alice Reilly turned a corner and stopped directly in front of her.

"Carol!" she said, pleasure coloring her tone as a bright smile wreathed her face. "What a nice surprise."

"Hello, Mrs. Reilly" Carol said, tightening her grip on the small red plastic basket she held in her right hand. "Congratulations. I hear you're a grandma again."

"At last," Mary Alice said with a quick grin. "I thought

Eileen was just going to carry this one for the rest of her life."

"Mom and baby are doing well?"

"Great," Mary Alice said. "That little girl is just the sweetest thing—" She reached out and trailed a fingertip along Liz's left arm. "Of course, not nearly as pretty as this one."

"Oh, of course," Carol said laughing. "And you'll say the same thing to Eileen, won't you?"

"I will, and stand by it. No baby's as pretty as the one you're holding at the moment." The older woman cocked her head and looked at her for a long minute. "This baby's been good for you, Carol. As good as you've been for Jack."

"What?"

"He doesn't know it yet, but I think he's happier than he's been in a long time." She reached out and gave Carol's arm a fond pat. "And I think it has a lot to do with you."

A flicker of something warm and lovely darted through Carol's stomach and disappeared again. "Mrs. ReiUy_"

"Mary Alice, honey. Call me Mary Alice."

"Thanks," Carol said quickly and took a step around the other woman's cart. "But you should know that—"

The older woman shook her head and interrupted her neatly. "I know all I need to know," she said, smiling. "And now, I've got to finish up here so I can feed Peggy, then get over to Eileen's house." She started walking, then paused and looked back over her shoulder. "You say hello to Jack for me."

"Okay, I will." Carol watched her go until she rounded the end of the aisle and moved out of sight. Then she dropped her gaze to Liz. "I think his mom likes me."

Smiling to herself, she headed for the checkout counter, then stopped, remembering she needed tampons. "Rats. Okay, Liz, one more thing, and then we're outta here."

She hurried to the last aisle and while she walked she started thinking, mentally counting. Her steps slowed as she realized that she should have started her period days ago. "No," she muttered, as if needing to hear the word aloud. "I couldn't be."

But she remembered that first night with Jack. The broken condom. And she wondered.

Standing in front of the tower of tampons, she let her gaze slide to one side, where it landed on a row of home pregnancy tests. Hand shaking, she reached for the closest pink and white box and dropped it into her basket.

"My mother's not crazy, so you must be a stranger," he said tightly. "Goodbye."

"Don't you hang up this phone, Jack Reilly," she said in a tone that could still send shivers down his spine. "I want an answer to my question."

His jaw clenched and his fist tightened around the phone. How the hell could she even ask him that? She knew exactly what had happened the last time he'd been married. He'd turned out to be the first divorce— ever — in the Reilly family. Not something he was looking to repeat. "You want an answer? Here it is. I'm not getting married."

"So you're going to leave your child without a father?"

"Child?" Cold dropped into the pit of his stomach. "What child?"

"Carol's pregnant."

Air rushed from his lungs. The room tilted and he gripped the arm of the chair to keep from being tossed to the floor. Carol? Pregnant? Instantly, his mind darted back. Back to that first time. When that ancient condom he'd used had broken. He'd managed to forget about that. Told himself that it would be all right. That one time wouldn't make that big a difference. And to be honest, Carol hadn't been worried about it, so he hadn't seen a need for him to say any rosaries over the situation.

Pregnant? He slumped back in his chair and wiped one hand across his face. "She told you?" She'd told his mother and not him? Stunned, he felt a pang of hurt ripple through him because Carol hadn't said anything to him. Then worry and confusion crowded behind the twinge of disappointment and demanded their turn at recognition. He didn't even know yet how he felt about a possible baby. "Why the hell would she tell you and not me?"

"Of course she didn't tell me," his mother snapped, clearly at the end of her patience. "I heard about it from Tessa Baker. She got it from her daughter who works at the beauty shop with Ellie. She heard from her mother who called her after Susie's mom told her. Susie sold her—Carol—the pregnancy test."

Now his head was spinning. Christ. Had he really forgotten how things worked in a small town? Hadn't he and Ed just been talking about the gossips and how they'd be looking for something new to chew on? Looked like they had it. "Good to know the spy network's still up and running."

"This is no time for jokes, Jack Reilly."

"Trust me, I'm not laughing." He swallowed hard as he fought to come to grips with the idea of Carol pregnant with his kid. This changed everything. While his mother ranted, Jack's brain raced.

He saw his plans to get out of town go up in smoke. How the hell could he leave Christmas and walk out on his own child? How could he live with himself, knowing he'd turned his back on his own?

Then other feelings reared up inside him and squashed him flat. Once before, he'd listened as a woman told him she was pregnant. And before he could even react to the news, she'd informed him that the child wasn't his. A yawning blackness opened up inside him as Jack felt the rage of that moment, the disappointment and disgust roar through him, as fresh in memory as if it had been yesterday.

But then another image was layered over that painful one. And he saw Carol, as clearly as if she were standing in front of him. He saw how she was with Liz. Holding her. Loving her. As she would love a child of his. And something inside him yearned to be there. To be a part

of it. Even while one cowardly corner of his mind was looking for a way out.

He had to talk to Carol.

"Mom?"

She kept talking, a runaway train of advice and threats and pleas.

"Mom!"

She stopped. "What?" One word, snarled as only a loving mother could.

"I've gotta go." He hung up before she could get started again. Then he stood up and headed for the front door. Snatching his cap off the wooden peg on the wall, he dragged it on, stepped out into sunset, and closed the door behind him.